Awesome Can't Die
by Germanic Spazz
Summary: War has once again exploded between the Kingdom of Prussia and the Austrian Empire, and it is tearing the Beilschmidt family apart. First Ludwig lost his Father's presence, and now the war demands his elder brother, Gilbert. And as for him, as confident as Gilbert is in himself, war is anything but predictable. Features the 7 Years War in Europe. Historical. Lots of angst and fluff
1. Prologue

Crimson eyes stared into crimson and began scrutinizing the navy blue uniform he wore. Gilbert rubbed his fingers down his side, straightening out any creases in his officer's jacket before scanning himself in the mirror once again. He was sure to go over each and every button and medal, making sure everything was perfect. Then turning to his bed, he snatched the scarlet cloak, lying nicely folded upon the sheets, and threw it around his back. He smirked and whistled as he gazed upon himself. He really did look awesome.

Once satisfied that his cloak was tied around his neck tightly, he turned back to the bed, muttering,

"Now all that's left is" but stopped mid-sentence as he noticed his last important article was missing. He stared upon the empty bed sheets where he had previously had placed everything on top of early that morning, anxious to forget anything.

After a moment of staring, without any possible sign of it just suddenly reappearing into his presence, he began to scan around the room, searching through drawers and shelves, and even daring to look underneath the bed. After finding nothing but dust (which he'd have to clean up later) he stomped out of the room, head turning about as he searched for any signs of his missing item. After a moment his eyes scrunched as he carefully arranged his thoughts.

Gilbert was currently at his cousin Roderich's house. He had come here just a week earlier with his younger brother Ludwig. He was positive that he had brought everything with him. In fact, nearly all of his house hold possessions were brought with him as the two brothers no longer had a need for their own house, especially with Gilbert leaving to fight on the front lines and there was no way Ludwig could be left alone.

Gilbert's wondering thoughts froze, focusing on one detail. Ludwig. Now that he thought of it, the small blond hadn't made a peep all morning. Gilbert was sure the lad would have rushed to his side by now, most likely crying and begging his older brother to stay. In fact, he had mentally prepared himself for several months on how to react to whining brother, so it was strange that he heard nothing.

"Hey Luddy! Where'd you run off to?" Gilbert called, now making his little brother the priority of his search. Gilbert stomped down the hall, peaking into his brother's room, which was far too organized for a boy his age. Even though Gilbert himself was clean and organized, that was something that the military and his mother's badgering had to pound into him. He, unlike Ludwig, was never clean as a child.

"Luddy!" Gilbert called once again, abandoning his brother's empty room for others.

After peeking into every room in the ornate hallway, (and slightly pushing the paintings on his cousin's wall from their perfect alignment, smirking, as he did) Gilbert trotted down the winding stair case to the main floor, skipping a few steps here and there.

"Ludwig!" Gilbert continued to call. "I'm serious bro! I'm not in the mood for your games!" He was growing a little annoyed at his brother's disappearance and silently swore that if it was related to Roderich, he'd strangle the pansy himself with his own cravat.

"Taking Ludwig somewhere on my very last day." he growled quietly to himself, eyebrows furrowed. "Wait till I get my hands on that four-eyed…" Gil stopped both his mouth and his feet, as he slowly backed up, taking another quick look in the parlor which he had only just scanned over while he was imagining all the creative ways he could pound his cousin.

Though the entire house reeked with the ornate rugs and furniture, fancy portraits, and detailed carvings, the parlor was the gaudiest room of the house. Giant family and personal portraits of the past Eldelstein family heads littered the walls, the couches an ugly gold with floral print and lion heads carved intricately into the furniture arms, which were clearly just for show and not the slightest bit comfortable. The small mahogany tables seemed to have a bit too much polish, as the reflecting light nearly gave Gilbert a head ache if he stared for too long, and were laden with fancy candle sticks and lacy coasters, in case one was to drink their tea here. There was a giant window on the left side of the room, resting just above one of the uncomfortable couches, with long, magenta curtains, pushed to the side to let in the morning sunshine. Even the walls themselves contained a gold trim with spiral carvings.

But Gilbert had seen the grotesque parlor plenty of times in his life, probably more than he'd wanted, and had no interest in the room itself. Instead, his eyes caught hold of what stuck out just behind the couch in the corner of the room. A pair of tiny, bare feet stuck out just beyond the couch's edge, and atop, Gilbert noticed a giant black hat with white feathers protruding from the top. Gilbert's original pout lifted into a mischievous grin, as he spotted his two objectives.

Sneaking soundlessly into the room, he crouched to the floor, and slowly crawled his way along the couch's edge, his target locked in his sight. Once he was close enough, he waited for a moment, listening for any signs of his prey noticing his presence. Then, without another thought, he snatched the small foot with his gloved hand and pulled.

A high pitched yelp filled the air as his brother was pulled from his sitting position to the floor.

"Found you!" Gilbert cheered, beginning to laugh out loudly.

The small German boy sat up quickly, his icy blue eyes glaring at his brother.

"_Bruder_! That hurt!" he whined, as his hand rubbed the back of his head, which had just made contact with the floor.

Gilbert smirked. "Well that's the punishment any thief deserves. You're lucky I don't chop off those pudgy fingers of yours. Ludwig had no response to that, instead he pulled his leg away from his brother and backed a few inches so he rested against the wall, placing the overly large hat back onto his head, which covered half his face.

"Go away _Bruder_." he mumbled quietly, his voice shaking ever so slightly.

Ah, there they were. The tears were finally coming. Gilbert gave a sad smile at Ludwig and sat onto his knees, crawling into the small space between the couch and the wall, where his brother was. He sat himself to Ludwig's left, leaning his back against the wall. He placed his arm around the silent child, pulling him into a small, one armed hug. Ludwig showed no signs of resistance. Instead, Gilbert thought he heard a small muffled sniffle.

Gilbert remained silent, relishing in just being in his small brother's presence. He was a good 12 years older than him. His mother had always wanted to have a large family, but unfortunately she had a weak body, and almost died in Gilbert's own delivery. Being her only child, Gilbert was given all of the woman's attention. Though he definitely wasn't spoiled rotten. His mother was still, after all, a strict German woman. It wasn't until he was 12 years old that his mother happily announced that he'd be an older brother. Gilbert was thrilled with the prospect! Nearly all of his friends had at least one sibling, and he had always been secretly jealous of that deep, sibling relationship, which always brought you back together, even after declaring an all-out, bloody war on one another.

The delivery went unexpectedly smoother than most had thought. Ludwig was born, a plump, healthy baby with (what Gilbert though) was the loudest, most obnoxious cry ever! A funny thought with how quiet the boy was now. He had his father's face, which Gilbert was reminded of every time the baby pouted. It also amused Gil to see the baby laugh or smile, as he rarely ever saw his straight faced father ever do so. Those were some of Gilbert's greatest memories.

However, the delivery did eventually take its toll on his mother, as she began to weaken and more frequently grew ill. Before she passed, she had properly trained her eldest son on how to care for his younger brother. She passed when Gilbert was only 15, Ludwig approaching three.

His father was a military man and a high ranking on at that. If he wasn't at the battle field, he was busy training his men. Prussia, the Beilschmidt Family's homeland, was a very militaristic nation after all. Gilbert had once heard someone describe Prussia as "a military with a country, rather than a country with a military". But because of his father's frequent absence, Gilbert practically had to raise his younger sibling himself. Thus creating a bond between the two brothers which was stronger than most.

Gilbert's thoughts were interrupted when Ludwig decided to break the silence.

"I don't want you to go." Ludwig muttered, his bottom lip quivering to stifle any sobs.

Gilbert glanced sadly at his brother, his grip tightening caringly on his brother's shoulder.

"I have no choice, Luddy. Our country needs me." He paused for a moment before continuing, "_Vater_ needs me."

Ludwig nodded understandingly, though he still sniffed. Ludwig knew his father was still on the battle field. He always was. Though his brother had once told him that "_Vater_ is getting too old to fight. Now he just sits back, throwing around orders to his men while he sits back, munching a potato." Ludwig was relieved to know that his father would be safe, but…Gilbert was not old like he was. Gilbert was still young and strong, and would be going to fight on the front lines. In the midst of all the guns and explosions themselves. He had a million scenarios playing through his head, each one a possible fate of that of his beloved older brother. Tears began to swell in his eyes as he pondered these thoughts and he was glad that Gilbert's hat covered his eyes, that way his brother wouldn't see. After all, he had never seen either his father or Gilbert cry before. Crying meant you were weak. Ludwig didn't want to be weak. He wanted to be strong like his father and big brother.

Another sniffle escaped his lips, and this time Gilbert couldn't keep silent.

"What's wrong Luddy?" He slowly lifted up his hat from his brother's head, whose eyes immediately widened in fear of his brother seeing his tears.

"Nein!" Ludwig whined, pulling the hat back over his face. Gilbert frowned.

"Why are you crying Lud? This is nothing we haven't already been through. As usual, you'll stay with cousin Roderich and Elizaveta. I'm sure they'll play games with you and make you delicious sweets!"

This next line tasted like bile in Gilbert's throat but he had to say it, forcing a smile. "Roderich makes great desserts after all, right?"

Ludwig was silent for a moment, but slowly nodded.

"See!" Gilbert beamed at getting a response. "You'll have lots of fun here! Sure not as fun as when you're with m…" Gilbert had to choke back his ego in order not to ruin his brother's mood further.

"You can ask Roderich to take you to a lot of fun places like the toy store! I'm sure he'll buy you some awesome toys; after all, he's pretty wealthy! And Elizaveta can take you hunting! I used to hunt with her and her _Vater_ when we were your age."

Ludwig's frown was rising into a sort of smile by now. Thrilled that his pep talk was working, Gilbert continued, "And I'm sure you'll meet a lot of other kids here that you can play with! Even if they are Austrian…" Gilbert muttered that last part under his breath so that his brother wouldn't hear it.

"And I'll be back as soon as you know it!"

With that last line Ludwig's smile disappeared.

"But what if…" Ludwig mumbled.

Gilbert looked curiously at his brother.

"'What if' what?"

Ludwig bit his bottom lip as he contemplated whether he should voice his fears or not.

"What if you don't come back?"

Gilbert immediately frowned and his voice grew serious. "I always come back. You know that Ludwig."

Now that Ludwig had already broken his silence, he couldn't help but let all his thoughts rush out his mouth like water spewing from a broken dam.

"But what if you don't?! You could be shot or stabbed, or hit by a cannon ball, or knocked off your horse and trampled! The list goes on and on bruder! You could be seriously injured or killed!"

Ludwig was breathing heavily now, his voice laden with sobs and fear. Yet he still refused to look at his older brother as he spoke.

"Please please please don't leave me Gilbert! I don't want to lose you! I can't lose you! You can't go! You can't die! I won't allow it!"

Gilbert was shocked by his brother's outburst. Where had he gotten these ideas of death from? Ludwig had never experienced death before, besides their mother, whom passed away while Ludwig was still too young to remember. Vater was rarely home, but still alive and very much kicking. Gilbert had gone to battle before and returned victorious and unscathed. Yes, Ludwig had begged him not to go before, but that was because he merely feared the prospect of being separated, but not of death!

"Where did these ideas come from Luddy? Who says I'm going to die?"

Ludwig stifled another sniffle.

"I heard Elizibetta and Roderich talking last night. Roderich said that this war won't be like the last one. He said that Prussia is outnumbered and that you'll die."

Gilbert sighed, mentally cursing Roderich and reconsidering his earlier thought of strangling his prissy cousin. Leave it to Roddy. He can depress anyone.

"Ludwig, look at me."

Ludwig was hesitant, but eventually turned his head up, blue irises staring at his brother, tears still pouring.

"I am Gilbert Beilscmidt right?"

Ludwig's eyebrows scrunched, a little confused why his brother was asking him this, but then nodded.

"Ja."

"And we've always been together?"

Ludwig responded with just a nod.

"And haven't I always returned from battle? Always won haven't I?"

Another nod.

"And am I not, your awesome big bruder?"

Ludwig scrunched his nose. "Ja, you're awesome bruder, but what does this…"

Ludwig was cut off as he gave another yelp, as his brother nearly tackled him with his entire body, wrapping him in his arms and pulling him to his lap. The oversized hat had fallen from his head and now Ludwig's hair was roughly being ruffled by his brother's hand thick hand.

"Cause I'm your AWESOME big bruder right?" Gilbert repeated loudly, his usual giant grin on his face, his hold on his brother getting tighter.

Ludwig's previous fears were temporarily forgotten as he tried to pry out from his brother's unbreakable hold.

"Bruderrr! Nein! Let me go!"

Despite his brother's attempts of freedom, Gilbert noticed his eyes were brighter and he knew that a smile was hidden behind that famous irritated frown of his. This caused the man to mess with his brother more. He began chuckling allowed.

"Nein! Say it! I won't stop until you do!"

"Bruder!"

"Say it!"

"Ok ok! You're awesome Bruder! Now let me go! _Bitte_!"

Gilbert's hold loosened but he didn't let go. Instead he turned Ludwig around in his lap so he was facing his brother.

"You're absolutely right Ludwig! I am awesome!" Gilbert chuckled. "And do you know what that means, mein kleiner bruder?"

Ludwig stared blankly at his brother. His eyes were red from crying earlier, but were now dry and curious.

"Nein bruder. What does it mean?"

Gilbert's smirk widened (if it was even possible) "It means that I'll be fine. I'll come back home safe and victorious. I'll even be a better soldier than Vater, cause he's not as awesome as I am! I'll come back home, riding upon my white horse, cloak billowing in the wind, sword in the air, looking as awesome as ever! And then do you know what will happen?"

"What?" Ludwig asked, entranced in his brother's words.

"I'll give Elizaveta a big kiss!" Gilbert exclaimed, starting to laugh.

Ludwig crinkled his nose in confusion and disgust. "But bruder, I thought she liked Rod…" He was cut off again when his brother placed a single gloved finger over his mouth, rolling his eyes and sighing, "You don't have to say any more."

Ludwig was still a bit confused until his brother again pounced on him, snuggling his face against his plump cheeks.

"Then I'll just give YOU a big kiss then!"

"Augh! Bruder! Noooo!"

Despite the protests, Gilbert proceeded by pressing his lips to Ludwig's cheeks and blowing hard. Ludwig couldn't help but giggle at how it tickled his face.

"Bruder no! Stop! Bitte! Nein! Bruder!" Ludwig said between laughs!

Gilbert soon relented, releasing his hold on his brother and holding his arms up in surrender.

"Ok! But first…"

Ludwig didn't even have time to scream before he was once again swept into his brothers arms as Gilbert stood and pounced onto the couch next to them.

"Ooof!" was all Ludwig could say as they landed atop the couch cushions and his brother started tickling him.

"Neiiiiin!" Ludwig squealed as he squirmed in his brother's arms, trying to find freedom.

"Jaaaa!" Gilbert laughed, as he continued to torment the poor kid.

Eventually the tickling turned into wrestling, Gilbert letting Ludwig win a few times, but not without him winning at least once. Soon the wresting subsided and the brothers were left lying on the couch, laughing. All of Ludwig's previous doubts completely forgotten as he spent this time with his brother.

"See Ludwig, I'll always be here for you. I'll never leave you for long. I'll always return. I promise."

Ludwig turned his gaze back at his beloved brother. As he stared into his fiery red eyes, he knew without a doubt that his brother was right. He was his unbeatable, awesome older brother after all! He smiled wider and pounced once again on his brother's stomach, causing him to lose his breath.

"I believe you, Bruder!"

Once Gilbert caught his breath again, he chuckled, rubbing his hand through his little brother's bright blond hair.

"You better! Cause I am awesome! And awesome can't die!"

oOOoOOoOOo

Gilbert spent as much of his time left with his younger brother. He was thrilled to see his brother laughing and smiling again. It'd be much easier leaving with his brother's tears now gone. Whenever he left before, he always left Ludwig in tears, tempting him to try to linger, rather than returning to his duty on the battlefield. And though he was met with tears earlier, he was able to dry those quickly, regaining the happy, young German boy that he knew and loved.

"What time do you head out?"

Gilbert, who was currently seated at the kitchen table, turned his gaze away from his brother through the window, who was currently chatting with Elizaveta outside, and glanced at his cousin.

"Hmm?"

Roderich sighed, rolling his eyes. "I said, what time are you leaving?"

"Oh, well I'll have to leave around noon if I want to reach camp by tomorrow night. Meeting up with a few of my men at the border and will camp out with them tonight."

Roderich nodded, continuing to roll out some dough which would serve as some pastries just for little Ludwig later that day. Gilbert was almost jealous. Almost.

"Was hoping to stay for lunch, if you don't mind."

Roderich nodded again, not taking his concentration off his work. "Fine by us. I'm sure Ludwig will be thrilled to have you stay longer."

Gilbert huffed.

Silence enveloped the kitchen for a while. The only sounds being of Roderich kneading the dough, Gilbert running his finger along the table's surface, drawing invisible pictures, and of Ludwig's muffled voice from outside.

Finally Gilbert broke the silence.

"So, what the heck was that about earlier?" There was slight venom in his voice.

Roderich glanced over at Gilbert, only stopping his work to readjust his glasses.

"Pardon?"

"You know what I mean! What the heck were you talking about me dying for!?" Gilbert barked. "You had Ludwig worried sick! He thought I was going to die! Die, Roderich, die!"

Roderich was beginning to understand a bit more, but was still confused as to how Ludwig became involved.

As if he could read his mind, Gilbert answered, "He overheard you and Eliza talking."

"Oh" Roderich muttered as he understood. "I apologize. That conversation wasn't meant for anyone else's ears. I'll be sure to make sure no child is eavesdropping next time." The apology was obviously halfhearted, though he did regret that Ludwig had heard him speaking so harshly.

Gilbert growled and slammed his fist on the table, causing Roderich to flinch..

"Dang it Roderich! You shouldn't have said anything at all! I'm not going to freaking die!"

Roderich turned to his cousin, eyes narrowed and voice serious. "Oh, so you want me be unrealistic and lie? I'd rather not. I'm not a foolish child anymore. And here I was thinking you had begun to grow up as well. Guess I was wrong."

Gilbert stood up from the table angrily. "What?"

"You heard me Gilbert." Roderich sighed, turning back to his baking. "Your chances are slim. Prussia has less allies than the war previous. You won't be as lucky as you were before. You're fighting against not only Austria, but Russia and France as well!"

Roderich paused, his shoulders falling slighting and his voice softening. "Prussia is surrounded. Your country will fall, and you will die."

They were both met with silence for a moment, that is, until Gilbert snorted. "You talk as if we're all alone! Don't forget, we do have the British Empire on our side!"

"Don't kid yourself Gilbert. We both know the Brits are only good for naval battles."

"Where the heck did your Prussian loyalty go!" Gilbert snarled.

Roderich dropped what he was doing and spun around, eyes narrowed angrily,

"Just because my mother hails from Prussia, doesn't mean my loyalty lies there. My loyalty is to Austria, and Austria only! The only ounce of Prussian loyalty I have is to my Prussian family! To my _Onkel_, to Ludwig, and to you!"

More silence followed as the two glared at each other.

"I'm already betraying my country enough by allowing an enemy soldier in my house. Don't make me dishonor my country any more. I will honor my agreement and keep Ludwig safe here, in Austria.

Gilbert broke off his stare with Roderich and began staring at the floor. He couldn't admit to Roderich (or himself for that matter) of this fear. He had begrudgingly told himself and Roderich that Ludwig would stay with his cousin since there was no one else to care for him. But that was a lie. There were plenty of family friends and neighbors who could care for Ludwig, but….No. He couldn't, he wouldn't admit it! Gilbert just wanted his brother to be with family while he was gone, Austrian or not!

"Bruder? What's wrong?"

Gilbert ceased his staring contest with the floor (which he was winning by the way) and turned to look at his cute younger brother who stood in the doorway, a worried look on his face.

Seeing his little brother's frown, Gilbert took the initiative, quickly putting on a pouting face. "Luddddy! Roderich's being mean to your Bruder again!"

Ludwig looked shocked and glanced up at his cousin then back to his brother.

"What!? Roddy! Why do you always pick on Gilbert!"

"Eh!?" Roderich stared blankly toward Ludwig. "I didn't do anything, he-"

"He won't give me any dessert Ludwig!" Gilbert pouted. "He says that he's going to make me leave hungry and without any tarts!"

Ludwig immediately ran over to his brother, grabbing his hand. "Don't worry Bruder! Roddy will share!" Then he cast a glare towards his cousin, one that would be deadly once Ludwig was older and face more matured. "Right Roddy?"

Roderich shot Gilbert a glare before responding, "Of course Ludwig. I wouldn't dream of leaving Gilbert out."

It took all of Gilbert's strength not to ruin his pout and burst out laughing.

Ludwig nodded, satisfied with Roderich's answer, and then began pulling on his brother's hand.

"Come on Bruder! Elizaveta and I want to show you a cool snake we found!"

"Oooh, a snake? Really?" Gilbert asked in a childish voice. Then he made a quick turn to his cousin, giving him a salute. "Call us when the tarts are ready! Looking forward to it Roddy!" He laughed before turning back to a smiling Ludwig and a half amused/half annoyed Elizaveta.

"Come on, show us the snake, my cute little tomboy, you!" Gilbert laughed.

Elizaveta rolled her eyes at her friend but followed after the two brothers, not able to wipe a small smile from her face.

oOOoOOoOOo

Gilbert stood outside the house, one hand grasping the reigns of his horse, and the other running through the hair of his sobbing younger brother, who had his arms tightly wrapped around Gilbert's waist. Gilbert sighed. It appeared he would be leaving behind a crying brother after all. Roderich took the horses reigns for him for a moment, allowing Gilbert to fully envelope his younger brother in a hug. His hand continued to soothingly caress his brother's head.

"I'll be back soon. You be good for Elizaveta and Roderich, ja?"

Ludwig sniffled, nodding his head as he did.

"Gut" Gilbert smiled. "I am awesome after all, so everything will be fine."

Though tears were in his eyes, Ludwig still smiled. "Ja Bruder. You're awesome. _Ich liebe dich_!"

"_Ich liebe dich auch_." Gilbert replied, giving one last pat to his brother's head before releasing him, taking the reins back from Roderick.

"I know I don't say it often, but thank you Roderich."

Roderich looked at Gilbert in shock. "'Often'? You never say it! What's gotten into you now all of the sudden?!" He began to reach his hand to feel Gilbert's forehead but it was shot down by an irritated Gilbert.

"Stuff it Frills!" He growled.

Roderich made a silent amused snort, but his face grew solemn and he glanced back at his cousin.

"Seriously though, don't do anything stupid. I won't be the one to tell Ludwig that you went and got yourself killed. You'll have to tell him that yourself." He said these words quietly, so that Ludwig wouldn't hear.

Gilbert snorted. "Of course! I'm awesome after all! Dying isn't really my thing." Then rested his hand on Roderich's shoulder, giving a small nod as a sort of 'thanks and take care'.

Roderich nodded back as Gilbert removed his hand and hoisted himself upon his steed.

But before he could leave, Elizaveta trotted next to him, a bold mask plastered to her face, hiding the obvious fear she felt as her childhood friend was leaving for war.

"Take care of yourself, you hear?"

"Ha, of course!" He smiled back as he stared back at his friend. She really was beautiful, her eyes shining like emerald and her long, soft chestnut hair gently caressing her round face. She had been a family friend since he was Ludwig's age and he, Roderich and her would always get into all sorts of trouble together. The tomboy had always been his best friend and was the only thing Roderich ever had won from him. But he didn't mind. He was happy just being her friend. Besides, there was probably another awesome girl waiting for him out there! Hopefully Prussian one at that!

"Take care of him, alright? He can't take care of himself yet."

Elizaveta nodded. "Don't worry Gil! I'll take good care of Ludwig."

Gilbert smirked, "Ha, I was talking about Roderich!"

Elizaveta's cheeks began to turn red, but before ether of the two could retaliate, Gilbert was pulling on the horse's reigns, beginning to gallop his way towards the border.

"_Auf Wiedersehen Bruder_!"

Gilbert glanced back slightly at his darling younger brother. Smiling, he raised a hand into a small wave in response as he rode out of sight.

"Until we see each other again, _mein kleiner Bruder_."

**Author's Notes**: I thought the author in me died a few years back, but I've had this short story idea for a while now, and I just had to write it. I do apologize, since there are so many fan fics with this kind of plot, with Ludwig thinking his brother is going to die and Gilbert comforting him and all that jazz. Yeah, sorry about that. But there will be a little more! How long? I don't know. The idea is just in my head at this point.

I apologize if there is any confusion or historically inaccurate data. Wasn't making this historically accurate at first, but did as I continued this.

Reviews would be awesome guys! I really would like to know how you think I did!

Stay tuned for more!


	2. Brats and Potatoes

A low yawn escaped Gilbert's mouth as he sat up from his hard cot, where he sat, dazed for a few minutes, eyes blankly staring before him. Once he was awake enough to think, he began twisting and stretching his body, ridding his body of any stiffness. Then finally, he popped his legs out from under his scratchy, wool blanket, pressing his bare feet one the cold earth beneath him. His feet flinched slightly at the sudden temperature change, but then slowly relaxed.

He slowly pressed himself up from his makeshift bed, which was a lot different than the dainty bed Gilbert had gotten used to sleeping on at Roderich's. He snorted and rolled his eyes slightly. So Roderich's daintiness was contagious huh? Well that would be something Gilbert would have to be rid of immediately! Which wouldn't be hard, now back in his military base camp, far away from that pansy's house.

Gilbert raised his arms high into the air and curved his back, feeling a few painful pops as his did so. Gilbert growled. The two days on horseback didn't help his body ether. He really had been away from the military for far too long.

Walking toward the large chest, tucked away towards the back of the tent, he popped it open, peering inside. Within it, lying perfectly folded was his navy blue military uniform, along with all of his other essential military clothing. He grinned as he eyed the uniform. Though he had worn it before, this would be the first day that Gilbert would be wearing it back among his men, flashing his rank.

Unbuttoning his long, white night shirt, Gilbert eagerly tossed the shirt aside, grabbing and throwing on his gray under shirt, along with a sturdy but loose chain mail. Then he proceeded to change into that magnificent blue uniform jacket of his, just as he did a few days ago back at Roderich's house. Once he was completely dressed, his saber strapped firmly to his side, he grabbed his last article, his large feathered hat.

Instead of immediately taking its place atop of his head, his hat remaining in his hands as he stared at it. He gently rubbed his fingers along the soft edges of the protruding white feathers, smiling as he imagined the hat sitting atop the small head of his brother. He breathed out a small chuckle as he pictured the thing slipping and sliding on his brother's blond head, his fists grasping its edges so that the large hat would stay put. But even with the hat stilled, it would still cover half of his plump face.

His smile suddenly faded, being replaced by a sad frown. The hat didn't suit his brother. No, it never would suit him. With the amount of his father's blood that ran through Ludwig, it was likely that as an adult, Ludwig would also inherit his father's height and larger build, and with proper military training, his body could easily appear that of a perfect soldier. But no. In Gilbert's mind, the hat, the military uniform, the weapons, everything that a soldier wore or used, did not look right on his brother.

Gilbert sighed and plopped the hat atop of his pale blond hair and turned to leave the tent, boots treading against the cold earth, crimson cloak swaying gracefully behind him. Though these clothes were perfectly suited for Gilbert, they would never suit his brother.

Gilbert lifted the flap of his tent open with his right arm, eyes narrowing as the bright, morning sun beamed in his eyes. Once his eyes adjusted, he began looking about, taking in the beautiful sight. All around him, tents were set up in clean, organized rows. Hundreds of men scuttled about the camp, some apparently just waking up, stretching their arms and enjoying the fresh morning air, still wearing their night shirts, while earlier risers left their tents completely dressed in their respective uniforms, ether leaving for, or returning with that morning's breakfast.

Gilbert took in a large breath of air, the scent of sweaty men and gunpowder filled his nostrils, causing a large grin to sweep across his face. Oh how he had missed this scent. Suddenly he noticed a trace of another familiar scent. Though not a scent related to the military, it was still one in which Gilbert immediately recognized, his grin widening, mouth-watering. Wurst.

Gilbert began to tread through camp towards the juicy fumes of the cooked meat. A small chuckle escaped his lips as he muttered, "They sure know how to spoil the men."

As Gilbert walked past the tents, he took notice that most eyes were on him. Men quickly looked up from their spots, ignoring their previous business to give him a respectful nod and a solute, recognizing the uniform he wore.

"Colonel Beilschmidt." They each greeted as he passed them, Gilbert giving them a small acknowledging nod. He kept his face stern and emotionless, but on the inside he was grinning ear to ear. He relished in the respectful acknowledgments of his men. HIS men! Dang that felt good to say!

He had always had a sort of talent as a soldier, and during the previous war with Austria, he was able to prove himself to his superiors of his excellent fighting and leadership abilities. He quickly rose through the ranks, and eventually landing himself with his current title as a Colonel, a recent promotion granted him just as war was once again proclaimed with Austria. At the young age of 22, Gilbert was quite possibly the youngest to ever acquire such a rank, which proved to show just how awesome Gilbert Beilschmidt was. His family's adequate social status and his father's high military position might have helped him out just a bit, but overall, it was all Gilbert.

Gilbert continued walking through the hordes of men until he reached the center of camp, where the majority of the men had gathered, all in organized lines, eagerly waiting for their turn at receiving the magnificent breakfast prepared for them. The lines were long and would have usually caused Gilbert to groan in frustration at such a long wait, but instead he smiled, strutting ahead to the front where the cooks were serving the food. Not a man grumbled as he casually passed them, the men near the front nodding and respectfully making room for the Colonel.

When the closest cook noticed Gilbert's sudden appearance before him, he quickly saluted before grabbing a tin plate and loading it with the largest _wurst_ and cooked potatoes they could offer. Gilbert gladly accepted the plate of the warm food, along with a side of fresh bread, grinning.

"Whose idea was it to feed this to the men on the first day?" Gilbert asked the cook, still smiling. "After this how do we expect the men to handle when they are left with nothing but measly gruel every single day?"

The cook gave a small chuckle, obviously understanding the conditions his Colonel had described.

"The shipment arrived last night." He smiled. "It was a gift from King Frederick. He wants all of the soldiers to be in top shape before heading out.

Gilbert's grin widened at the prospect as he glanced again at his meal. Not only was their king a military genius, but he was generous as well.

"Let's just hope the men don't desert once they get a taste of real military rations." Gilbert joked as he stalked away. The cook gave him a quick salute as his left, before turning to the next man in line, waiting for his share of the food.

Gilbert stalked back toward his tent, the scent of the fresh meat wafting into his nostrils. It took all of his power not to appear too excited. The last thing he wanted was for his men to see their new Colonel appear "immature", not that he was ever immature of course! After all, he was younger than a good majority of the troops.

Upon reaching the small clearing where his tent was, he spotted a few old logs along the ground, providing Gilbert with the perfect place to sit while enjoying the fresh air and meal. After removing his white gloves, he began digging into his meal, savoring the taste. His last good meal had been a few days earlier while still at Roderich's house, and frankly, he had expected it to be his last good meal for a while.

"Colonel Beilschmidt!" A cheery voice sounded through the camp and to Gilbert's ears. He immediately looked toward the voice, noting its familiarity.

A few men walked through the tents and around scrambling men, towards him, food in hand. One of the men had his arm in the air, cheerfully waving at him.

Gilbert grinned as he recognized the bright face of the freckled, strawberry blond man, making his way towards him. The man, with two other men along with him, stopped upon reaching Gilbert.

"Mind if we join you _Colonel_?" The man asked, adding a slight emphasis on Gilbert's title.

"Of course, _Captain_ Bachman." Gilbert laughed.

The man's eye brows knitted as he puffed his lips, pouting as he sat next to Gilbert. "Hey now, I've been a Major for a few months now!"

Gilbert shrugged. "Old habits die hard." he laughed, even though it was clear by the man's uniform that he was indeed, a major now.

The man's light green eyes light up with laughter as he pats Gilbert on the shoulder.

"Good to see you again, old friend."

"Ha, don't mistake my high rank for my age, Klaus. I'm still young and beautiful." Gilbert smirked, taking another bite of a _wurst_. "You on the other hand, aren't you pushing 30?

"I'm 28 now, _danke_." he grinned, taking his own bite of his breakfast.

Gilbert laughed, thoroughly enjoying being reunited with his old war friend, and began looking him over. He had a broad, muscular face, accompanied with a narrow nose and faint freckles. His short strawberry-blond hair stood up an inch off his head. He was slightly more muscular than Gilbert, but thankfully he was also slightly shorter. His eyes, a mix of green and hazel, were filled with the same newfound excitement that Gilbert' felt himself. Twas the nostalgia of being finding themselves back in this familiar setting, but starting anew with power carrying titles. There was a faded scar across his left cheek, which reminded Gilbert of the battle where his friend was only centimeters away from a bullet to the face.

It was a moment later that Gilbert noticed the other two men sitting along the logs just a few feet across from him.

"And you men are?" Gil inquired.

The first man was slender but still had himself an adequate build. He stood up, his short dirty blond bangs slicked partially back to reveal his thin face and dark blue eyes.

"Ah, Captain Johan Frederick Finn, sir!" he said, reaching his hand out politely toward Gilbert.

Gilbert took the hand, smiling. "Colonel Gilbert Beilschmidt. And you can be at ease, Johan."

The man nodded, smiling as he sat himself back down. "It's Frederick if you don't mind."

Gil raised an eyebrow. "Taking on the name of the king eh?"

The man suddenly looked flustered, as he waved his hands worriedly. "No, no sir, it's just, I have two other brothers named Johan. We all go by our middle names."

Gilbert gave an amused snort. The poor guy must have had a confusing childhood.

"Very well, Captain Finn." Gilbert attempted not to chuckle before asking his next question.

"You Finnish?

"My great grandfather was sir, but I assure you, I am very much Prussian."

"Makes sense." Gilbert muttered, then turning his gaze to the next seated soldier. He was a bit older than the others, ranging mid-30s, and had himself a pretty impressive moustache.

"Captain Andor Kelemen. Pleasure to meet you Colonel." he said, a slight accent in his voice.

Gilbert nodded as he shook the man's hand after the introduction. Andor had the same kind of accent that Elizaveta had, even though it only ever surfaced when she was angry, which, for Gilbert, was actually quite often. But Gilbert gave the man's nationality no mind. In fact, a large chunk of their men were non-native Prussians. Once King Frederick began his reign, he began changing a few details in the military, one of them being that they allowed foreign forces to help as well. Prussia had plenty of Hussar regiments, along with regiments made up of other soldiers, such as Polish, Danish, and of course, Hungarian. They were good soldiers as long as moral and pay was high enough. Some of them contained a strong loyalty towards the cause and the Kingdom of Prussia, while others were there for the money. But Gilbert didn't have a problem with them as long as they did their duty (and spoke German). Besides, what better army was there to join besides the Prussian one?

"Same here, Captain." Gil responded, releasing his hand and returning to his meal.

"So how about this great meal, Gil? Can't believe they are giving us a feast and we haven't even won any battles yet!" Klaus laughed, stabbing his food with a fork. The two Captains' stared at Klaus in shock that he would refer to the Colonel so familiarly, war buddies or not. But Gilbert didn't even notice, not caring much with his friend along with not being used to his new title.

"I was thinking the same thing earlier. Apparently it's a gift from the King. Wanted to keep us in top shape and boost morale further. A freaking genius he is!"

Gilbert paused to take a bite of his potatoes. The combination of the cooked starch and the juices from the _wurst_ was heaven to his taste buds.

"Dang it! God bless that man for bringing potatoes to our beloved lands! Whoever says they are just a boring, poor man's dish should be smacked with a crop!" Gilbert smirked.

"True true, but a lot of the higher classes are still reluctant to accept the potatoes. It's probably going to take some time." Klaus stated.

Gilbert growled, staring at his last bite of potato. "Whatever. They just aren't awesome enough to appreciate your awesomeness. Takes one to know one I suppose"

Klaus burst out laughing, which in turn caused Gilbert to burst out as well. The two seemingly having forgotten about the two captains with them, who watched their leaders with blank stares. The two beginning to doubt the maturity and competency of their superiors.

A moment later, Gilbert's laughter was stifled by a steady trot as a uniformed man atop a large, black horse approached from around the tents. Gilbert immediately stood up, watching the man intently as he slowed his steed upon approach. Upon reaching him, the man steadied his horse, staring down at Gilbert.

"Colonel Beilchmidt?" he asked in a deep voice.

"Ja." Gilbert responded, crossing his arms. "What business do you have with me?"

The man then immediately hopped off the horse, so that he was not seated above the higher ranking man.

He saluted and then proceeded by reaching into the brown satchel hung at his waist.

"I have a summons for you sir." he informed, pulling out a sealed letter and handing it to him.

Gilbert nodded, grabbing the parchment and ripping it open. He pulled out the letter, unfolding it and scanning over it. A slight grin overtook his face as he finished, folding and lowering the letter from his face.

"Anything else?" he asked the messenger, who shook his head politely.

"Dismissed then." Gilbert stated, giving the man a quick salute. The messenger did the same, then proceeded by hopping back onto his steed and taking off, most likely to report to the next regiment.

Gilbert watched the man ride away briefly before spinning around to his companions.

"Major Klaus!"

"Yes!" Klaus responded professionally, knowing by the tone in his friends voice that the time to be friendly was currently over, something one gets used to, being in the military.

"Gather the other Captains! Have them make sure their men are finished eating and have their messes cleaned up! Be sure they are dressed in full uniform and have all their weapons and supplies ready to move out at any notice! You and the other majors check to be sure they are ready by noon and await any further orders."

Klaus nodded. "Of course, Colonel!"

Gilbert then peered over at the two Captains in his presence.

"You two got your orders straight from me. Now get to it and don't let me down!"

The two nodded, saluting back as well before grabbing their empty dishes and trotting towards their company's tents. Both slightly smiling now, seeing that while their Colonel did act a bit young and careless, he could also be serious and responsible when the time arose.

Gilbert then turned and began marching away from his tent and in the direction of the horse stables.

"And you Colonel?" Klaus asked, raising a curious eyebrow as to what duty was presented in that mystery letter he had just received.

Gilbert glanced as his friend, smirking widely, unable to contain his excitement.

"War council!"

oOOoOOoOOo

It didn't take long for Gilbert to reach the clearing where the counsel would be held. Gilbert was first met by a few dragoons, who had been patrolling around their leader's camp. They let him pass as he flashed them his invitation, a few medals as proof of his rank, and after answering a few questions. Gilbert didn't mind the hassle. After all, one can't be too careful when letting men into the camp containing some of the Prussian army's most prominent leaders.

Once allowed passage, Gilbert trotted his horse into the camp. It was set up much like his own, but just a tad smaller. They also had many more guards posted about. Gilbert stopped as another soldier approached him, though this one wasn't armed.

"May I take your horse sir?"

Gilbert smiled and nodded, hopping off his steed and handing the reigns to the soldier.

"Hold to the reigns tightly. He tends to be a bit skittish when with men he doesn't recognize."

The soldier nodded in understanding as he slowly led the horse away to the stables.

Gilbert took in a deep breath of air as he peered through the camp. For some reason the air tasted better here. It tasted like power!

Straightening his hat, Gilbert marched through the campsite, towards its center, where no doubt the counsel would be held. He knew when he had arrived because he was stopped again by some armed men who had formed a guarded parameter around the spot.

"Name and rank?" the soldier asked, brown eyes looking Gilbert over.

Gilbert smirked widely. "Colonel Gilbert Beilschmidt, here to join the party."

The man's eyes widened, a little disbelieving the fact that such a young man was indeed a Colonel

"Can you show me proof of your identity?" He then asked, eyes narrowing a bit suspiciously. Gilbert rolled his eyes as he began reaching back into his pockets, when a loud, baritone voice cut in.

"That will be unnecessary Major, as I can vouch for my son's identity."

Both the officer and Gilbert's eyes shifted to the large man marching towards them from inside the parameter. He was a very large man in both height and width, a part of Gilbert wished he had inherited such a muscular build. He wore a simple dark blue uniform, which was just a shade darker than Gilbert's. At least half a dozen different medals were strewn along his chest, a sight that would intimidate any soldier (not considering the man's wall-like constitution). His bright bond hair ran down to his beefy shoulders, with any hair pulled out of his broad face. But despite the man's usual stern mask, there was a proud fire in those icy blue irises, which reminded Gilbert too much of his brother, as he stared toward him. There was slight limp in his step, which Gilbert constituted to an old war wound, which just got worse with age.

"_Hallo Vater_!" Gilbert greeted, smirking as he watched the face of the soldier who had previously attempted to interrogate Gilbert.

"Ah, right! So sorry sir!" was all he could manage to say as he stared up into the massive German's eyes. He immediately stepped aside, allowing Gilbert entrance, eyes now staring anywhere but at them.

Gilbert couldn't help but chuckle at the man's reaction- though it was to be expected. If the man wasn't his father, he would (almost) be intimidated as well.

"Glad you could make it." His father said, placing a hand on Gilbert's shoulder as he led him towards where the others waited.

"Of course! Not every Colonel gets the chance to be a part of the King's war council!"

"Well not every Colonel is the son of the King's war advisor."

"Hey, I got where I am cause I'm awesome! I'd be here even if you weren't my _Vater_." Gilbert answered, a small chuckle in his voice.

His father raised a large eyebrow as he stared at his son seriously.

Gilbert just smirked even wider. Though it was true that he had most likely only been invited due to his father's influence, he knew that his father wasn't the type of person who'd recognize an individual who didn't deserve it, related or not.

They reached the meeting spot, which was merely a large table, laden with charts and maps, set underneath a large canopy to block the sun. There were a few high ranking officers already seated at the table, but there were still some key figures missing. But that was to be expected, as Gilbert left as soon as he could, riding as fast as he could to reach this camp. There was no way in Hölle that he would be late for such an event!

"How's Ludwig doing?"

Now in their respective seats, Gilbert leaned back in his chair, staring up into space.

"He's fine! He's been growing a lot lately! He's a bit serious for a kid, but he's happy. I left him safe at Roderich's house, where, as much as I don't want him to, he'll behave."

Gilbert then glanced at his father, grinning. "Although, the last I saw the weird kid, he had stolen my hat in order to prevent me from leaving!"

The man snorted in amusement, the corner of his lips barely rising into what Gilbert suspected was a smile.

"If I do recall correctly," He began, looking towards his son, his muscular arms crossed over his chest. "I do remember a certain rambunctious brat stealing some of my things to prevent me from leaving on several occasions."

Gilbert's grinned widened, just now remembering his own crazy attempts at keeping his father home.

"That was different! I stole weapons! Much cooler and much more effective!"

"Effective if your aim was for a lashing,"

Gilbert's grin turned into a bit of a nervous one as he shrugged his shoulders slightly. He had forgotten about that part. "Still awesome nonetheless."

His father let out another amused breath, which was the closest thing to laughter the man seemed capable of.

The two were a bit quiet after that. Even after the being apart for so long, that was all Gilbert could think to talk about. His father wasn't that big on idle chat after all. The times separated did also make it harder to converse with the man casually for long.

Gilbert's grin faded as his face turned a bit grim.

"He misses you, you know?"

His father gave him a curious glance.

"Ludwig. He misses you. He needs his _Vater_."

The man's face hardened slightly, not wanting to show any emotion. But Gilbert knew how to read that face. He knew that his father was regretting his absence. After the death of Gilbert's mother, his father had made as much time as his schedule allowed to be home with his sons. It wasn't a lot, but for Gilbert and infant Ludwig, it was enough. However, after a few years, his father would return home less and less. After all, Gilbert was old enough to care for his younger sibling.

"I was there for Ludwig's birthday." he responded, hoping it would be enough to satisfy his son.

Gilbert's eyes narrowed and he crossed his arms.

"Yeah, his _**9**__**th**___birthday. Ludwig turned 10 last month."

His father turned his gaze to the ground, not saying a word.

Gilbert sighed and decided to take the initiative. His eyes were no longer narrowed but his voice was serious.

"Letters aren't enough anymore. He's gone his whole life without a mother and hardly a father. And now, even I'm not able to be there for him all the time. He needs his father, and as much as I love him, I don't find comfort in the fact that I'm his 'father figure'." A small smile crept over his lips. "I'm much too young to be a father. It makes me sound old. No chick will want me."

His father's strong hand reached up and grasped Gilbert's shoulder, giving a tight squeeze. His face was as straight as ever, but his blue eyes glittered with sorrow and regret. Gilbert pitied the old man. He was a good man (even with his lack of natural human emotions) and was a great soldier! He just wasn't cut out to be a good father. He really did seem to try his best though, and Gilbert did have to hand it to the man, his oldest son turned out great!

"Don't you fret about it old man! After all, with that lame leg of yours, you're not going anywhere near the battle field! That gives you plenty of time to spend with Luddy!"

He released his hold over his son and sighed, shaking his head. How did he ever have such a snide child like this? But then again, no matter how annoying or unnecessary some of his comments were, he did make sense sometimes. Still, he had wished he was there for his son more as a child though, so he could shove a bar of soap into that disrespectful mouth of his to teach him some manners! But he supposed he could still always court martial the boy?

"I'll see what I can do." he sighed in submission.

Gilbert's grin widened and he gave his father a friendly slap on the back, which thoroughly bothered the man.

"That'd a boy! I knew you had it in you! I'm proud of you!" Gilbert exclaimed loudly, getting the attention of the other generals seated at the table.

No. A court martial wouldn't be enough. He swore that if he wasn't in front a bunch of his colleagues, he would have smacked his son right then and there! But it'd have to wait for later.

Gilbert was thinking about messing with his strict father further, him not being able to currently do anything about it, when suddenly people from the table quickly rose from their chairs, his father included a second later. A bit confused, he turned his gaze to where the General's attention was, staring upon the arrival of a small group of men, Gilbert's eyes immediately drifted to the man towards the center of the group.

An emotion called shock seemed to walk up to him and smack him in the face, as he recognized one the regal middle aged man, clad in a striking blue and red uniform and a large black hat sitting upon his white wig. But what caught Gilbert's attention was the large, Prussian star pinned on the left side of the man's chest.

"Your majesty!" Gilbert nearly screamed, scrambling to his feet.

The king took notice of Gilbert's anxiety, most likely used to such reactions, giving Gilbert a kind smile and nod as he walked gracefully to the front of the table. It wasn't until he took a seat in his chair that the others followed, Gilbert a bit slower at sitting down, eyes still locked on his king.

His King. Frederick the II of Prussia. The man his people called "Frederick the Great", was sitting just a matter of feet from Gilbert. Why was he here? War councils were important, but were they really _that_ important? No, of course they were! Especially with the current war just beginning! It made sense! Of course his King would be here! How else would he have achieved gaining and keeping a hold on Austrian Silesia without this man leading his troops on the war front? This brilliant tactician who revolutionized the theory of war and battle! So why wouldn't King Frederick be here? But even with all the logical explanations Gilbert had, he just couldn't calm himself from the shock, and frankly, the excitement!

The meeting commenced. King Frederick and his men explaining his plans of attack- with the other Generals pitching in ideas and opinions every now and then. Among some of the leaders, Gilbert was also able to pick out a few other big shots, which were famous among the military. One man, a bit short and with a light voice, one you wouldn't expect to come from a man of such rank, Gilbert was able to point out to be Lieutenant-General Zieten, who was famous for his and his Hussar regiment during the First Silesian War. He also was able to place a name on an older soldier who sat near Frederick, as Field Marshall Schwerin. Gilbert had to admit, that he was a bit jealous that his father got to serve directly with these astounding men. But also had to admit that he was happy to still be young and have a working leg as well.

After another hour or so into the meeting, the fan boy within Gilbert began to die down, as that inner Colonel in him began to take control of his mind. He listened into the conversation intently, running every word through his mind, and how to apply such strategies. He even threw out his own ideas occasionally. The council went on like this for about another hour before it was ended, everyone now satisfied about their planned strategies.

As men stood up from their seats, some conversing with one another, and some leaving, Gilbert stood up from his own seat, and stretched his back from after sitting still for so long. He was too busy stretching out his tired body to realize that a couple of men were approaching him. With his arms out behind his head, he glanced to his side, finally noticing this new presence, expecting to see his father or someone boring. But to his utter amazement, the man who stood before him was none other than King Frederick himself, his father and Field Marshall Schwerin on either side of him.

Gilbert immediately straightened himself. "Your Majesty!" he cried out, bowing to his King.

Frederick smiled, waving a small hand, signifying that Gilbert could stand.

"So this is the famous Gilbert Beilschmidt that I've heard so much about. Your father has told me a lot about you."

If it was anyone else who had said those words, he would have replied in some snide remark about his obvious glory and awesomeness. But seeing as this was the king, Gilbert could do nothing but nod.

"I've been told you are a quick and wise leader, especially during the heat of battle. And climbing the ranks at such a young age! I must say, we need more men like you."

Ok, this was too much for Gilbert to resist. "Heh, of course. But I doubt you'll find anyone else at my level."

As soon as those words left his lips, Gilbert froze. He felt the blood draining from his face as he realized what he had just said. His father was now giving him a death glare.

Gilbert's mouth opened as he was about to stutter out a quick apology to his King, when suddenly he heard a small laugh. His jaw snapped shut, eyes fixed on the chuckling King. His father seemed a bit shocked by this as well.

"Got a pretty bold boy there, Alvar." Frederick said, obviously amused.

"Indeed." Alvar Beilschmidt stated, eyes still locked coldly onto his boy. He preferred to think of Gilbert as ether "conceited" or "stupid"…or rather both.

"Anyways," Frederick began, blue eyes on Gilbert "Your input during this meeting was very beneficial. I look forward to seeing you and your troops in action."

"D-_Danke_ your majesty." Gilbert stuttered, being unintentionally modest for what was easily the first time in his life.

Frederick smiled, his slight wrinkles crinkling as he did so.

"Well I best be off." He stated, giving a nod to both the Beilschmidt's and began walking off, Field Marshall Schwerin and a few other men close behind him.

"I'm expecting great things from you Beilschmidt!" he called out as he departed.

Gilbert was glued in place, eyes staring into his King's back. It took a moment for the praise he had received to sink in, but once it had, his wide, trademark grin spread across his face.

"I am so awesome!"

The next thing Gilbert was able to register was his father's large hand slamming into the back of his head.

**Author Notes:**  
Ok, wow…this story is getting a lot more detailed than I originally intended… I hope I don't end up regretting this!

Sorry there wasn't any Ludwig in this chapter, but I hope I kinda made it up with the awkward Father son bonding! And a cameo from Old Fritz! Will have lots of Ludwig in the next chapter. I promise.

Anyways, a few things that must be discussed (I made a list!):

* I know nothing about how the military works, let alone the Prussian army during the 18th century! I apologize for anything that doesn't make sense! Like the fact that Gilbert actually achieved the rank of a Colonel at 22...yeah, I know it's unrealistic, but this is fiction and Gilbert is awesome.

*those extra Prussian soldiers were added in just to make conversation with Gil, and so I'd have some characters in his regiment that he can order around! Bachman based off of a German friend of mine, and Finn based off of my Great great grandfather, who was Prussian Finn: German last name which simply means "from Finland". Snazzy, no?

*There are some historical facts in this that don't match up date wise….please just ignore it. I'm not trying to be accurate.

*Don't know how much I am really going to include Fritz or his generals. I left it open just in case I get some ideas, but there might not be much. And no, there will be no PrussiaxFritz pairings….nor any pairings really. Sorry!

*And last thing! You may notice my inconsistency with "Vater" and "Father", well I'm trying to have it so whenever it is being spoken, or the word is being used like a name, I use Vater, but when just using the general term, I'm just using Father.

I know there's more to talk about but I'm getting carried away….anyways, hope you enjoyed it!

Reviews are deeply appreciated guys! Seriously, if no one had reviewed my first chapter, I probably wouldn't have be encouraged enough to write this one!

And a quick thanks to my friend Shelby for being a wonderful (and entertaining) editor!

Tschüss!


	3. Spam Mail

Ludwig sat with knees on the couch, back straight, and blue eyes staring longingly out the window behind it. His small hands were clenching the back of the couch as he sighed in frustration. He was tempted to lean his forehead tiredly on the glass, but after a stern lecture about refraining from touching the glass from his dear cousin Roderich, Ludwig wouldn't dare. Instead he arched his back and leaned his head down onto his hands, his eyes still glued to the world outside the parlor window.

This wasn't right. It had already been three weeks, and he had yet to receive a letter from Gilbert. The last time his brother had left him, he was always sure to write Ludwig as much he could. His brother's letters were the only thing that kept the young boy sane.

Roderich had said that three weeks wasn't that long. It takes time for mail to come, and even so, Gilbert would be busy with his troops. He was told to be patient, and that eventually a letter would arrive. But Ludwig didn't want to be patient! He was already patient about so much in his life, but hearing word from his brother was one thing he couldn't wait for.

His hands clenched onto the couch back harder, his nails attempting to dig into the wood. Ludwig breathed out a low groan as his fingers fidgeted on the surface. Finally he released his grip and let himself fall to his side, colliding with the couch's soft cushions. Tears seemed to seep their way into Ludwig's eyes. He hurriedly wiped them away with the back of his hand, before burying his face in a pillow to prevent any more tears from slipping out.

These past few weeks without his brother had been the worst. Even after having already experienced this once before, this time wasn't any different than the last, and if anything, it was even harder. Not being fully accustomed to his brother's absence, Ludwig would find him in several situations where he would call out for his brother, or would at least think he was still present for a moment. Then reality would set in, filling Ludwig with a sense of loneliness.

"Hey Luddy,-" Elizaveta's soft voice broke the silence.

Ludwig peeked out from the pillow he was currently smothering himself with, and glanced at the Hungarian woman.

"-would you like to help me make lunch?" She asked. She had a sweet smile lacing her face, yet her green eyes were filled with sorrow for the young blond.

Ludwig usually loved helping the woman cook. It was always fun to help and spend time with Liza, and over the past couple years, Ludwig actually had to admit he was improving. He also craved the praise his family would give him once they tried his meals. Today, however, he only craved his brother's attention. But his brother wasn't here now, was he?

"Nein." Ludwig muttered into the pillow, holding back more tears that arrived at the thought of his brother.

Elizaveta frowned, slowly making her way towards Ludwig and sitting on the couch next to him.

"Why not Luddy? You've always liked helping me cook. Do you feel sick?"

Upon asking, she reached her hand out, aiming to feel the boy's forehead.

He shook his head. "Nein. I feel fine."

Elizaveta withdrew her hand and placed them on her hips, huffing in frustration. "Well then what's wrong Ludwig?" She knew that the boy missed his brother, but usually cooking tended to take his mind off of the matter.

Ludwig hesitated with answering right away, but he needed to release his frustrations. He needed someone to talk to. He sat up, removing the pillow from his face and into his lap, resting his chin on it.

"I haven't received a letter from Bruder yet."

"Oh" Elizaveta muttered in realization, nodding slightly. She placed a hand on Ludwig's back, comfortingly rubbing it.

"Don't worry Ludwig! You know Gilbert wouldn't forget to write you! (She actually wouldn't be too surprised if he did) I'm sure he's just taking his time to write you a super big letter! It'll probably arrive any day now!"

Ludwig took a glance up at the woman. "Really?" he sniffed

Eliza nodded happily, a large warm smile on her face. "Of course! He's probably busy finishing the letter right now! After all, you know how much Gilbert likes to talk."

Ludwig let out a small chuckle. His brother really did like talking. He is probably writing about everything, telling him how awesome it all was.

A large smile found its way to Ludwig's lips. "_Ja_! You're right Eliza! _Bruder_ is just busy writing me the best letter ever!"

Eliza chuckled, happy to see the boy's hopes up.

"And then you can write Gilbert a big letter right? You can tell him about all the fun stuff you get to do with Roderich and me." Eliza beamed.

Suddenly a slight frown overcame Ludwig's face, his eye brows knitting in thought.

"But Eliza," he began, looking the woman in the eyes. "I haven't had any fun here. How am I supposed to write _mein_ B_ruder_ about that? I can't lie to him!"

Elizaveta fought not to let the disappointment and irritation show on her face. Instead she attempted to keep smiling.

'This is _his_ brother after all' the thought.

"Well then Ludwig," she began, slight venom in her voice, one that Ludwig immediately recognized, though it was only ever directed towards his brother. He flinched slightly as Elizaveta wrapped a firm hand on his shoulder. "why don't we do something fun then, huh? Maybe doing some chores? Or maybe you could assist me in my archery lessons! I do need something to place my apple on top of, and you are the perfect height." The cold smile never once left her face.

Ludwig nervously shook his head. He had never understood what his brother meant when he said that Eliza was 'scary'. But now he knew. Little did he know, that this was only a taste of what his brother would receive when angering the Hungarian.

"_Nein_…umm…why don't I just help you cook?" Ludwig suggested, quickly jumping from the couch and running to the kitchen.

o00o00o00o

Ludwig continued through the week, doing his best to keep his spirits up as he spent his days with Elizaveta (and sometimes Roderich, when he wasn't busy working…which Ludwig didn't understand. How was playing the piano working?) But after another week passing by, still with no word from his brother, Ludwig found him in the same exact position he was in before, kneeling on the parlor couch, eyes staring outside the window.

Elizaveta sighed. She did all she could think of with Ludwig to pass the time, but there was nothing left for them to do. She also doubted Ludwig's mind would even be able to take itself off the subject of his brother for any longer. She did have to admit though, it was odd for his first letter to be this late. Before Gilbert had sent a letter merely days after arriving with his army, informing Ludwig of his awesomeness and that he was able to arrive to camp safely.

A small cloud of fear and doubt crept over her subconscious. What if Gilbert hadn't arrived safely? Did he not even make it back to camp? What could have happened? Ambushed by thugs? A sudden illness or accident? But none of these possibilities seemed logical. As much as she loathed saying it, Gilbert was a strong and smart man. She had (almost) no doubt that he had made it to camp safely. But then, was it a battle then? Had Gilbert been wounded or …No, she didn't want to think about that possibility.

She sighed, leaning her back against the wall. No, Gilbert was fine. He had to be. He was probably just being an idiot and forgot. She'll have to beat him for making his sweet younger brother suffer like that.

"Suddenly Elizaveta was roused from her thoughts as Ludwig suddenly squealed.

"Eliza Eliza! Look! Someone's coming!" He exclaimed happily, eyes staring at the galloping horse which was nearing the house.

Elizaveta approached the couch where Ludwig sat, bounding up and down excitedly, and peered out the window. Sure enough, there was a large man atop of an equally large black horse, just entering the courtyard, the hood of his cloak obscuring his face.

A smile ran onto Elizaveta's face. The Eldenstein house lived on a large amount of property owned by the family, which was surrounded by a forest. No one but the mail carrier had business here. She turned to Ludwig, who was now smiling wider than he had for the last month.

"I'll go get the money so you can pay the man, alright?"

Ludwig nodded excitedly. His bright eyes and large grin making Elizaveta smile even wider.

She turned and began trotting out the room.

'Wait for me to come back before you open the door Luddy! I'll be quick!" She hollered back as she disappeared up the stairs to the second floor.

Ludwig could hardly take the excitement as he watched the man who undoubtedly held news of his brother. He watched carefully as the man stopped his steed, and hopping off. He turned his covered head around for a moment before spotting where he was looking for, tying his horse to a large pole. Ludwig looked back towards where Elizaveta had disappeared, anxiously willing her to return faster. There was nothing more he wanted to do than to run out to the man and demand the letter. He turned back to look at the man just as had removed his hood from his tired face.

Ludwig froze upon this sight. The man was still a good ways out in the courtyard, but there was no way he wouldn't recognize that wide face, outlined by that long blond hair and icy blue eyes, which were so similar to his own. All previous thoughts seemed to vanish as he stared at his father. He couldn't believe it. He was really here! After all this time, his father has come to see him!

Ludwig snapped out of his shock and jumped off the couch. He ran to the door, passing Elizaveta who was just now returning with money to pay this "postal man". She was a bit shocked by his sudden actions, but had no time to say anything as the boy ripped open the door and ran out.

Alvar had just finished tying down his horse, satisfied. It would do for now, but eventually his nephew will have to lead him to the horse stalls. He grabbed a few of his bags off the horse and turned towards the house. Just as he turned, he saw a flash of blond hair before a large force rammed into his leg. He nearly stumbled at the sudden force, and quickly looked down, large arms ready to grapple with the attacker. But before he could lay a hand on the disturbance, his eyes met with the wide blue eyes of his youngest son. Tears threatened to fall from those eyes, yet they were brimming with joy.

The two remained wordless for a moment, just staring at each other. Finally Ludwig spoke up, quietly squeaking, "Welcome home _Vati_!"

He fought off a slight smile but he did give an amused chuckle, hand reaching down to ruffle his son's hair.

"_Danke_, Ludwig. Have you behaved while I've been gone?"

Ludwig replied with a swift nod, still not able to take his eyes or arms off of his father. It was still hard to believe the man was here.

"Mr. Beilschmidt!" Elizaveta shouted from the porch, eyes wide in surprises, but a bright smile on her face.

She then trotted towards the blond man, the happiness radiating off of her.

"What brings you here Mr. Beilschmidt?

Alvar shrugged, continuing to pat his boy's head. "I'm no longer needed for the time being, so I figured it's about time I visited Ludwig again.

Both Elizaveta and Ludwig nearly shouted with glee at the man's answer.

"Would it be alright if I stayed with you for a few days?"

Before Elizaveta could even answer, Ludwig broke in a loud and powerful "Of course Vati! You can stay as long as you want!"

Elizaveta chuckled at the boy's exclamation, then gave Alvar a polite nod to assure him that Ludwig's proposal was acceptable.

"Well," Alvar began, leaning down and grabbing his son and pulling him up into his arms, startling the slight boy. "I don't intend to stay for too long. I'm still needed out there, but I'm on a short break for the time being. Besides, certain idiot told me I was overdue for a visit."

Without thinking he placed the child in his arms atop of his shoulders, his large hands holding onto Ludwig's legs. It wasn't a moment later that Alvar began to wonder why he had done such an action. It was always something he had done for Gilbert when he was younger, but that's because the child had demanded it. Ludwig however didn't. But now seeing as the child was already upon his shoulders, and was laughing happily, he might as well leave it as is. Old habits die hard, he supposed.

"Shall I take your horse, Mr. Beilschmidt? I'll get him settled in the stables. You can go ahead inside." Elizaveta offered.

"Ah, yes. _Danke_." He nodded, marching towards the house. Upon reaching the door, he removed Ludwig from his shoulders, not wanting the child to ram his head into the door. Ludwig puffed his cheeks at being let down, but he muttered no complaints. He then proceeded by continuing simply stare at his father, blue eyes wide and focused.

Alvar felt a bit awkward. What was he supposed to do, to say now? He hasn't seen his child in over a year, but he had no idea what to say. It was all too strange for him. He never was one for conversation, which always made him wonder where Gilbert had gotten such an active mouth (his mother certainly wasn't ever that talkative; more than Alvar yes, but far from Gilbert) It would have helped sooth the strange atmosphere if Ludwig talked just a little more. But unfortunately for him, Ludwig seems to have inherited a bit of his father's poor conversation skills.

Alvar scratched the back of his head, probing his mind for anything to say or talk about.

"Umm, so, how have you been?"

To Alvar's relief, his horrid attempt to reconnect with his son was interrupted by Elizaveta's sweet voice as she strolled back into the house.

"It really is great to see you again Mr. Beilschmidt!"

Alvar nodded. "Yeah, it's been a few years since I've been here. " He took a quick scan of what he could see of the house, "Still looks the same though."

Elizaveta snorted, trying to hold back laughter. "Yeah, well you know Roderich. He's not much of a person for change. So, how's the army life treating you? Has Gilbert been behaving?"

Before Alvar could respond, Ludwig's eyes widened in realization.

"_Bruder_! You've see _bruder_, right _Vati_? Is he alright? He hasn't written me yet! I'm worried that the letter got stolen, or that Gilbert is too busy! He is writing to me, isn't he? I've waited so long and haven't heard anything from him!"

Alvar almost laughed in amusement. So the boy could be talkative at times. He leaned down on one knee so that he was eye level with his son.

"Gilbert is just fine son. Don't worry about him. He's an adult now and can take care of himself."

Then reaching into his shirt, he removed a slight crumpled envelope from his shirt, handing it out towards Ludwig.

"He wanted me to give this to you."

Ludwig was ecstatic. He recognized that scratchy handwriting on the envelope. He snatched the letter from his father, his hand tracing over the letters that spelled his name. Ludwig hugged the letter to his chest and sighed. He had to admit that he had grown worried, especially for his brother's safety. It was a doubt he was ashamed of having, especially after what Gilbert had said to him before leaving. But now having actual proof that his brother still lived and breathed, put Ludwig to rest. He swore that he'd never doubt his brother again. He was awesome after all!

"Now, Gilbert did give me some instructions before I left." Alvar added, grabbing Ludwig's attention. "He says that you are to write a letter back to him, and to have it done for me to deliver it to him. Understood?" Alvar couldn't help but feel almost like he was relaying instructions to his troops, which now that he thought of it, was a bit odd, considering he was speaking to his 10 year old son.

But Ludwig took no mind to the man's tone; obviously used to how rigid his father's speech was, even if he hadn't been around much.

Ludwig smiled up at his father. "Of course! Roderich bought me some paper and some new quills for me to write _Bruder_ with! I'll write him right now!" And without another word, Ludwig bolted from his father and up the stairs, disappearing into his room.

Alvar stared at the stairs in which his son has suddenly disappeared from, a little shocked at his sudden disappearance.

"It's an expected reaction. He's been waiting for that letter since the day after Gilbert departed."

Alvar turned his head towards the voice, spotting a tall brunet, arms crossed, and a smile upon his face. His brown hair was neatly parted to the left, with only one curled hair standing out of its pristine arrangement. His dark blue eyes, which almost looked a tad violet in the light, stared at him from behind a pair of thin glasses. He wore a white dress shirt and some fancy black slacks. Alvar almost snorted at how "Austrian" the man was, but he could never come to hate this particular one. Especially when he wore that smile on his face which was so similar to his sister's.

"Hallo Onkel." Roderich greeted.

"Roderich" Alvar nodded. "It's been a while. You've really grown up since I last saw you."

"It has been at least seven years since we've seen one another." Roderich pointed out. Alvar rubbed his head apologetically. He wasn't really good at this "family" thing, was he?

"Well," Roderich continued. "It really is great to see you again. I'm sure Ludwig is just as happy that you are here. He has missed you a lot."

Another comment which unintentionally makes Alivar feel ashamed of himself. "Ja, someone else told me the same thing."

Roderich frowned slightly, not meaning to offend his uncle, but it had to be said. He for one certainly pitied the Beilschmidt children for growing up nearly without a father. But, that no longer mattered. All that mattered now was that the man was here, and was trying his best to be there for his youngest child.

"You must be tired. It's a long way from the front lines. Would you like to rest? Can I interest you in anything to eat or drink?"

Alvar nodded. "Please. That would be nice."

Roderich smiled and politely motioned for his uncle to follow him, as he turned towards the kitchen.

"Elizaveta, could you take his stuff to his room for him?"

"Of course!" Elizaveta replied.

Alvar handed over the bags he had, and watched as the young girl, whom he had known since she was just a mere child, disappear up the stairs.

"Is she the only Héderváry who still works here?" Alvar asked Roderich as he entered the kitchen.

"Ja. Her father suffers from an illness, so I released the family from our service, Elizaveta included. But…" Roderich paused, not being able to hold back the slight red from appearing on his cheeks. "She likes working here, so I allowed her to stay."

Alvar snorted, knowing exactly what it was truly about. He knew infatuation when he saw it. However, the last he remembered, his eldest son seemed a bit infatuated with the Hungarian as well. But it didn't surprise him that the obnoxious brat had lost.

"I'm a bit curious to know how things are going in the war." Roderich began, placing a plate of cooked meat and bread on the table before his uncle. "Gilbert had us all a little worried with how long his letter took to arrive. Writing Ludwig is usually the one thing he's good at."

Alvar rolled his eyes. "The punk broke into my tent, leaving the letter, along with a note for me, telling me I was his new postal man, and must hand deliver the letter to Ludwig, and that he doesn't expect to get a response for a good few weeks. That was a few weeks ago, and I haven't been able to leave until a few days ago"

Roderich chuckled. "Sounds like Gilbert."

"Ja. For a Colonel, he sure doesn't respect his superiors." Alvar snorted, taking another savory bite of his meal. It really was a lot better than military food. He hadn't realized how much he'd missed home cooking, no matter how simple it is.

"And Gilbert is just fine. You know I can't be telling any civilians any details about the war. Especially considering your nationality."

Roderich simply shrugged. He was quite used to his nationality being brought up by his strongly nationalistic and militaristic Prussian family.

"You know I don't care about specifics. I just am curious to know the fate of my family." Unlike with his talk with Gilbert, Roderich was careful not to mention any specific doubts of Prussia's position in the war. He could handle an angry Gilbert, but no force on earth could make Roderich ever want to anger his uncle!

"Heh" Roderich noticed his uncle actually crack a slight, prideful smile. "There's nothing to worry about. We have our king; our master tactician, leading our forces. I personally have seen his plans for this war. And as for Gilbert himself, he may be a brat, but he's a marvelous soldier. I fully recognize the man as a Colonel, even if he needs to fix his manners, his leadership abilities in the heat of battle are unmatched."

Alvar paused to take another bite of his meal, and then a swig of beer which Roderich had placed for him while Alvar wasn't looking (which he was extremely thankful for. He needed himself a good beer).

"Gilbert's also the type who is able to easily obtain the hearts of his men. He's got one of the most enthusiastic regiments in the army, with plenty of men who are willing to die for him and the country."

Roderich nodded, satisfied with his uncle's confidence in Gilbert's abilities. Though now he was a little worried for the Austrians who had to face his cousin in battle.

"And what about you? What's your role in all this?" Roderich asked, eyes glancing to the man's leg for a split second.

Alvar sighed, still not happy with the situation that was caused by his old injury.

"I won't be participating in any fighting on the field. I'll assist the King with his battle strategies and help run the military and keep it organized. These last few years, I've been busy training the men and the promising soldiers who showed leadership skills, but now that the fighting as begun, I won't be needed until new plans are needed. But as I have no idea when that will be, I'll be leaving in a few days. But,-" Alvar paused, glancing upward, where he knew Ludwig was. "I intend to return every couple weeks or so."

"Good. Ludwig could use your company. He hasn't taken Gilbert's absence well. He doesn't openly complain, but you can see it in his eyes how lonely he is. He isn't used to Gilbert being absent, even after being through this once before. But of course, that was only a small, territorial war. The current situation seems much greater."

Alvar nodded. "_Ja_. It's pretty much a sequel of our war with Austria over Silesia."

"But this time Russia is involved." Roderich muttered, causing Alvar's eyes to narrow in a mixture of thought and anger. Roderich flinched at the man's fierce gaze, but calmed a second later when he realized this anger wasn't directed at him. It was merely the Russian's presence in this war which angered the man. It was common knowledge that the Russians really had no part in this war, and often enjoyed involving themselves in strictly European affairs. In this war in particular, Alvar wasn't even sure if they had a goal. Perhaps their _Tsaritsa_ simply had a personal vendetta for the Kingdom of Prussia. And Alvar was certain that they also had their eye on valuable Prussian territory, making their way even farther into Europe.

** "**Vati."

Alvar was roused from his thoughts at the sound of the soft, young voice. He turned and looked down to where his child stood, watching him curiously, as if not sure what to make of the tall man.

"What is it child?"

A smile returned to Ludwig's face as he raised a few pieces of paper out towards his father. Alvar took the sheets from his hands and scanned over its content. Large ink letters riddled the parchments, with random ink stains and scribbles throughout the sentences.

"_Was ist das_, Ludwig?"

"My letter to _Bruder_! I need you to get it to him now!"

Alvar chuckled, leaning down and patting the boys shoulder.

"I won't be leaving for a couple days _Sohn_, and Gilbert is currently busy. Unless you want me to leave right now?"

Ludwig crinkled his nose in thought. He wanted Gilbert to read his letter now! But, he also didn't want _Vati_ to leave yet. Gilbert had said in his letter to keep _Vati_ there as long as possible, and that he needs Ludwig to keep him company, which Ludwig was excited about.

"I don't want you to leave _Vati_….but _Bruder_…he needs my letter. He's probably lonely without me."

Alvar laughed, yes, he actually laughed, which surprised all of the house's occupants. Usually a chuckle was all you would ever get from the man. He reached ruffled his large, callused hand through Ludwig's hair, still laughing.

"_Ja, ja_. I understand. Gilbert is useless without you after all."

Ludwig smiled, satisfied that his father understood his dilemma.

"Don't worry Ludwig. I'll get the letter to Gilbert as soon as I can. Besides, he's a bit busy right now anyways. Are you willing to wait until I leave?"

Ludwig bit his lip in thought before he finally nodded. "_Ja_, I can wait. But only if that means you'll be with me till then.

"Of course" Alvar replied, giving Ludwig's hair one last ruffle before standing up.

"But _Vati_,"

"Ja?"

"You're going to need to put my letters in an envelope, or they will get ruined. If they get ruined, then Gilbert will be mad. He said my letter needs to be 'awesome'."

Alvar rolled his eyes. _Not you too, child._

"What a good idea Ludwig!" Elizaveta exclaimed as she walked into the room, causing Roderich and Alvar to jump at her sudden appearance. "I do believe that Roderich gave you some envelopes too!"

"Oh yeah! I forgot!" Ludwig exclaimed as he scampered from the room to retrieve the finishing touch to his brother's letter!

Once Ludwig had disappeared, Elizaveta turned towards Alvar, trying her best to keep a straight and serious face, yet her eyes shown her obvious fear.

"Mr. Beilschmidt, what do you mean by 'Gilbert is busy right now'?"

"Just as it sounds. Gilbert is busy with his work as a soldier. Gilbert is fighting."

"Right now?"

"Right now."

Elizaveta bit her lip, not sure what else to say. She wasn't comfortable with this. She never was. She knew that this is what Gilbert did, and was good at, but the thought of him actually on the field, surrounded by whizzing bullets and lurching batons made her worry for the safety of her longtime friend. She hadn't felt comfortable watching his back disappear from them as he rode to war.

"Elizaveta? You alright?"

She glanced back at Roderich, whose face shown with concern. She had already shared her concerns with Roderich earlier, but he reassured her of her dark thoughts. She gave a sad smile, pushing away her fears.

"Just fine. Thank you Roderich."

Silence engulfed the room as no one knew what else to say. Though Alvar didn't share their worry, having confidence in his son and army, but he did understand their thoughts, succumbing to the silence as well.

"I got it!" Ludwig exclaimed; running back into the room, beaming.

Both Elizaveta and Roderich gave a sigh of relief, thankful for the child's lifting presence.

"Here _Vati_! The envelope! We gotta make sure my letter doesn't get ruined!"

Alvar took the envelope from the child's hands, placing the parchment inside and sealing it.

"All done Ludwig."

Ludwig's smile brightened. "_Gut_!" He then grasped one of his father's hands, tugging at him. "I want to show you my room! Gilbert bought be all sorts of toys!"

"Alright." Alvar nodded, begging to give in to the boy's tugging, until he stopped, realizing something.

"Right, almost forgot." He reached his free hand into his shirt, and pulled out another crumpled envelope, handing it to Elizaveta.

"For you and Roderich." he added in, before disappearing from the room in tow of Ludwig.

Elizaveta peered down at the letter curiously, Roderich coming up beside her to look.

"It's from Gilbert." Eliza muttered, noticing the scratchy handwriting on the envelope's surface.

"That's odd. He usually just writes to Ludwig. Why would he write to us?" Roderich added, hand rubbing his chin in thought.

"Something important?" Elizaveta suggested.

"Most likely."

Eliza then proceeded by carefully tearing the envelope open and unfolding the folded letter. On the paper lay a lone sentence. The couple stared at it for a moment, before both simultaneously turning bright red.

_ "You don't have to wait until you're pregnant to get hitched, you know."_

**Author Notes: **

**Leave it to Elizaveta to cause drama….I didn't even plan that. I seriously don't plan half the stuff I write. It just comes out like that.**

**Hope everyone was in character. I felt like Alvar (Germania) is getting a bit OOC…hope not. Oh, and I realized I made his eyes blue instead of green….oh well. He really is an older, longer haired Ludwig now.**

**Next chapter we'll see more of Gilbert! And violence! Horrays!**

**(maybe some more character appearances too? Only if you want them though)**

**Oh, and I guess I lied about there being no pairings, when there is obvious AustriaXHungary, but, that doesn't count since it's not a focus of the story and that couple is practically canon anyways. But that's still the only pairing. Just Family fluff, thank you!**

**Alvar used to be like Gilbert, but then he took a bullet to the knee….**


	4. Beir und Brot

Strategy. That's what determines whether you win or lose. It doesn't matter so much on how many men, horses, or guns one has, but what it was one _does_ with those men, horses, or guns that was essential. It is all really just a game one plays. A game of chess.

Gilbert glowered over the terrain that served as their chess board, damp hair sticking to his face as the last remains of that morning's fog gradually cleared. The fog had been their ally that morning, providing the Prussians cover as they intercepted the Austrian soldiers. However, it was later revealed that the weather hadn't been completely on their side, as it had also covered the amount of Austrian pieces on this chess board. Once the fog began to clear, they realized that rather than facing a small Austrian rear guard, they had actually intercepted a full-sized field army.

The sounds of cannons and gunfire filled the air as the entire main Austrian battery began to hammer the few battalions of infantrymen previously sent out to take care of the rat problem. King Frederick had the battalions pull back as soon as their mistake was realized.

Gilbert's eyes scanned the new scene unfolding around him, observing every minute detail that the field offered him. Just as expected, they had been able to cut the Austrians off along the Elbe river. It wasn't an overwhelming obstacle, but for most of the Austrians, any attempts to wade through would have broken apart their pathetic formations. Gilbert snorted in amusement. At least the Austrians weren't completely stupid enough to attempt crossing.

Not only were many of their men stuck along the river, but they were also stuck along a hill, and were clearly in the defensive as the Prussian army fired down at them from a terrace. It was the perfect position for the Prussians. Large army or not, the board was designed for the Prussians. And with their king's strategic abilities, Gilbert had no doubt this would be an easy game.

The angry hollers of men and of artillery fire hung in the air. The hum of bullets sliced through the air as cannon balls collided with the hard earth, all combining into a single sound. The once fog-filled sky was now filling with a haze of dust that was lifted into the air by the falling iron balls and the scuffling of thousands of feet. The smell of sweat, metal and gunpowder wafted through Gilbert's nostrils. That was a good sign Gilbert knew it was a losing battle once the smell of blood broke through the initial scent of battle.

Gilbert's men continued to fire upon their Austrian adversaries, remaining in their firing formations, even with bullets breezing past their faces. Their eyes were focused on their targets, not even flinching when the man besides them was felled.

Gilbert remained atop of his white steed toward the back of his ranks, trotting back and forth along his regiment, being sure to see every detail their game provided him. His eyes narrowed as the firing continued, with no apparent break in any of the Austrian's lines. Why wasn't there any effect?

"We're getting nowhere with this." Gilbert grumbled to himself, eyes scanning both forces for any possible openings or opportunities.

A distant flash of color zoomed past Gilbert's left, immediately turning his attention toward the movement.

In the distance, hundreds of horses broke off from the larger blue formation of men, their riders aiming their rifles releasing a small puff of smoke as each rifle fired. The cavalry's advancing! Gilbert perked up, gently pulling up on his reigns to steady his steed.

He watched closely as the Austrian cavalry took the bait, charging towards the racing Prussian cavalry, guns ablaze.

Now! Now was their chance! Break apart their infantry formation while their cavalry was detained.

"Forward!" Gilbert screamed, dress saber pointed towards their destination as he reared back on his horse.

Captains relayed the information through the lines. Men picked up their feet and steadily advanced towards their enemies, not breaking their concentration and steady fire.

As they advanced, so did the enemy fire. Cannon balls crashing through the leagues of men and causing holes within their ranks as men were crushed or flung back by the force.

"Stay in formation! Fill in the gaps!" Gilbert screamed, racing his horse once again along the backs of his ranks in order to avoid becoming an easy target.

The advance began to slow as more men fell. Gilbert growled, blood pulsing through his head in frustration.

"Forward!" He once again screamed, but no matter his commands, his men could not proceed. In fact, they were being driven back!

Bullets flew just inches away from Gilbert's ears, spooking his horse and causing him to harshly pull back. The Austrian fire was too heavy. They weren't prepared for this amount of artillery from Austrian reinforcements. Especially this early on in the war!

Gilbert glanced towards the other battalions. Apparently his wasn't the only being pushed back, as Austrian fire ceased to relent. The cavalry dispatched earlier had been decimated and scattered by the Austrians. It appeared that the Austrians now had the advantage in this game, as their defensive stance turned to the offensive, slowly making their ways forewords.

Gilbert almost gaped at the sudden turn of the tables. How had the Prussians been pushed back this far? How had all of their previous charges failed? These Austrians, they were different than before. Gilbert snorted, eye brows knitted and teeth clenched. This was their first encounter with the Austrians since war was declared. They could not lose now! They never lost! They were Prussians! No way could a silly Hapsburg country take down the _Königreich Preußen_!

That's when something caught Gilbert's eye. He whipped his head around and reigning his horse to the right. He had to be sure his eyes weren't playing tricks with him, but they weren't. It was small, but he could clearly see it.

Kicking his heels into his horse, he raced down the lines, saber pointing towards the right side of the Austrian lines, just along the river.

"Veer right! There's a gap!" Gilbert hollered, "The gap! Break them apart!"

The closer captains took notice of their Colonel's find, screaming out orders to their platoons until the entire regiment had their eyes trained at the small gap forming in the right flank of the Austrians. Artillery began firing at the weak flank, scattering the men even further as they tried to take cover from the sudden increase of fire.

Other regiments must have taken notice as they too aimed for the right, the men regaining their beloved offensive and beginning to advance forward. The Austrian's appeared to be in a bit of a panic at the sudden turn of positions. They scuttled around trying to regain the upper hand.

The sound of gunfire began to disappear and there were much longer stretches of silence between cannon fire. Gilbert grinned. Oh, what a good moment for ammo to run low. The Prussians were slowly making their way forward down the terrace, firing what little ammo was left at the Austrians.

Men atop horses began to run along the back lines of the Prussians, sabers poised in a 45 degree angle, shouting words unrecognizable through the shuffles of men. But Gilbert knew exactly what was being ordered. Gilbert turned his eye towards the small figure in the background of soldiers, knowing that to be the exact location of his king. His saber too was raised as he charged his horse foreword , followed by waves of men.

"About time." Gilbert mumbled before posing his saber in the same manner and screaming "CHARGE!"

Within seconds, the screeching of bullets ceased and instead all other sounds were drowned out by the cries of thousands of men, feet and horses stampeding down the terrace in waves of blue, their bayonets poised.

Moments later the blue collided with the green, as men ran each other through with bayonets and the sound of clashing metal filled the air.

Gilbert grinned at the sight as blue slowly began to overtake the startled green. The game was falling into place, yet it was far from over. The pawns had made their advance, it was time for the bigger pieces to make their move. He wasn't the king after all, whose job was to stay in the rear, leading his men along. Now, Gilbert too, was just a simple piece. And now, it was the time for the knights' to make their move.

Gilbert's heart began to race with excitement; adrenaline coursing through his veins and his face adorned with an almost blood thirsty grin. Kicking his heels into his steed's stomach, he launched himself towards a small gap in the sea of men, firing his remaining ammo in mid trot at whichever unlucky Austrian caught his gaze first.

Nearby Austrian's caught sight of Gilbert, recognizing him immediately as a man of a higher rank. Some took that as a clear sign to stay away from the man, but most hungrily turned their sights on him. The blood of a Prussian Colonel was much more desirable than that of a simple infantry man.

Austrians began to make their way towards the capped soldier, baring bayonets and pistols. However, it wasn't just them who caught sight of Gilbert's appearance, but the Prussians as well. Within seconds, a formation of men formed themselves loosely around their Colonel, clashing metal with any Austrian who sought their sights on him. A proud grin grew in Gilbert's chest at his men's immediate reaction to protect. But it only lasted a second and chaos continued to ensue.

The blond fired at a few more Austrians to his right before noticing an Austrian breaking through his barrier and making his way towards him with a bayonet aimed at his heart. Within a heartbeat, Gilbert swung around, piecing his own bayonet into the man's chest. Eyes flashed with pain before dulling as Gilbert wrenched the blade from his adversaries chest, causing the bleeding body to fall limply to the ground.

The loud pop of a pistol fired and suddenly Gilbert was falling, rifle slipping from his grip. Time seemed to slow as he fell, hitting the ground with a hard thud and grunting as his air was punched from his lungs. But despite his breathlessness, he was still able to use his momentum to quickly roll to avoid being crushed by his equally falling steed. The horse gave a pained screech as it pounded against the hard ground, head and legs flailing as it bled out from its pierced thigh.

Gilbert ground his teeth as he quickly hopped back to his feet, drawing his sword to replace his lost rifle, striking down the first Austrian in front of him.

"I JUST GOT THAT HORSE, _ARSCHLOCH_!" Gilbert angrily screamed into the air, as he slashed a man in the arm, then turning to kick another in the chest to knock him from his feet.

'HOW DO YOU EXPECT ME TO LOOK AWESOME WITH OUT A FREAKING HORSE!?" He cursed again, launching himself at a frightened Austrian, clashing his sword against the other's bayonet. A quick look of relief flashed in the other man's eyes as saber clashed with the metal rather than his body, but Gilbert didn't hesitate to land his fist on the man's jaw immediately after.

Gilbert fought among his men, each movements flowing gracefully with one another, a product of their effective military training and familiarity of battle. The men continued to weave themselves around Gilbert, blocking off any Austrian that attempted to make their way through, and Gilbert slicing down the ones that did. From the corner of his eye, Gil noticed a man raise his rifle towards him, obviously still having a bit of his ammo left. But before the man could fire, Gilbert quickly drew his pistol and fired, bullet ripping a hole out the man's throat.

A sort of glee seemed to run through Gilbert's blood as seeing the man fall, making his whole body feel lithe and light. Such adrenaline! The rush of fists and swords colliding with flesh, watching the bullets and weapons aimed for you, being able to lose your life at any given moment. It all was such a rush! A part of this game he played! Human life was so fragile, so vulnerable. He knew this, yet, he felt like he was invincible. So many falling on this blood stained terrain, yet he was always still standing. Though some fates were determined on luck, Gilbert felt his wasn't. It was all a product of his skills and training. Battle made him feel powerful. It made him feel awesome!

It wasn't much longer before the Austrians began to scatter; the last strand of order, keeping the Austrian ranks together, snapping. It wasn't long after that when an official retreat was sounded from the Austrian side. Men turned to run fearfully from Gilbert and his men, most running after their own men as they fled. However, within the chaos, Austrians continued to run about in multiple directions, some platoons even running towards the nearby village of Lobositz, being closely followed by a regiment of Prussians to chase them down.

Gilbert stood in his place, eyes glued to their retreating enemy. With the sudden calmness enveloping him, he suddenly began to realize how exhausted he was. His chest hurt as his rapid heartbeat began to slow, attempting to return to its normal speed, his lungs taking in long gasps of air, as if he hadn't taken in enough during the battle. He also noticed how his uniform uncomfortably clung to his sweat soaked skin. His head spun slightly as his body recovered from the sudden lack of adrenaline and his limbs felt as if they were made of lead.

Without even realizing it, Gilbert found himself falling back, landing harshly on his back, limbs sprawled out around him. A few men worriedly rushed to his fallen form, fearing for their superior's safety.

Instead, Gilbert ignored their equally exhausted voices and instead had his irises locked upon the blue, cloudy sky above them. A proud grin smeared over his face and he parted his lips, not being able to contain the small proud chuckle as he formed the word.

"_Schachmatt_!"

o00o00o00o

The drunken singing and laughter of the Prussians must have been heard for miles around. Gilbert wouldn't doubt it! Just his harsh voice alone could wake dozens of families as he stumbled home after a night at the tavern. He would sing loudly to himself in drunken slurs, not even caring as lights from the town's residences flashed on, resulting in open windows and yelling for the drunkard to shut the heck up. So if Gilbert alone could do that, he wondered what kind of damage the near entirety of the Prussian army cold do. He wished he was near Austria, that way he could relish in the satisfaction of hindering their beauty sleep. But for now, he supposed the Saxons would do.

Gilbert leaned his back against his chair, taking another large gulp of beer before clanging the empty mug loudly on the table before him. A loud, obnoxious laugh escaping his throat but was soon drowned out by the hundreds of other celebrating men around him.

"I need another!" Gilbert exclaimed his faced flushed red and a drunken grin gracing his face.

"Haha, I think you've had enough for tonight Colonel." the man besides him muttered, not yet drunk himself but a faint red tint gracing his freckled face.

Gilbert puffed his cheeks out in mild annoyance, glancing at his friend.

"Bachman, since when has a Prussian had enough beer?"

"Oh I don't know, how about you take a look at Finn over there." the auburn haired man shrugged, motioning towards a table where the passed out blond laid, his head resting limply on the table with a half filled beer mug still clenched tightly in his hands. He was now shirtless and had tons of empty beer mugs placed on top of his bare skin by his fellow drunken comrades.

Gilbert snorted at the sight. "Those Finnish don't know how to hold their liquor right! Now get me another beer, Captain! Don't make me have to pull rank on you!"

Klaus let out a hefty chuckle, catching the attention of the poor Saxon bar tender and signaling for another drink. "I'm pretty sure you'd be decked for a comment like that!"

Gilbert paid no attention to Klaus's words as a new mug of beer being placed before him demanded his attention even more. The mug nearly made a sound, barely touching the table before it was in Gilbert's grasp. He took another gulp of the miracle substance, and gave a loud satisfied sigh. It wasn't Prussian, but he had to admit, these Saxons had decent beer. But then again, after the month long siege of Saxony, along with his fighting with the Austrians just two weeks previous, Gilbert would have been satisfied even with Austrian beer! Wait…scratch that last thought! That bile wasn't even beer.

"I'm just happy the Saxons finally surrendered. I was becoming a bit frustrated waiting so long." Klaus muttered, taking a swig of beer.

Gilbert huffed in agreement.

"Well we can just be thankful for the Austrian aid sent our way. They provided us some fantastic entertainment!" Gilbert laughed.

"Though have you heard what the king has proposed?"

Both Gilbert and Klaus turned to face another Prussian who had wondered to their table, obviously drunk from his stance, but not enough that he would necessarily be speaking nonsense.

"With the Saxons?" Gilbert asked. When the man nodded, Gilbert just shrugged, taking another sip of his drink for responding. "_Ja_, the king thinks it would be a good idea to include the Saxons in our forces. Not a bad idea if you ask me. We more than made up for our losses at Lobositz."

The man growled angrily before grabbing a chair and pulling himself up at their table.

"But they are Austrian allies! For all we know, they could turn on us!"

Gilbert stared at the man thoughtfully. He was voicing the fears that most of the Prussians all secretly held in the back of their mind. And he did have to admit that barricading the entire Saxon army within their fortress in Pirna and blocking off any food supply until they surrendered, wasn't a very good way to make friends. But Gilbert didn't question his king's decision. They had taken Saxony, surprising nearly all of Europe, even their own allies, the Britain's. They easily conquered a possible threat to the Prussian campaign, as well as taking valuable territory and resources. True, the Saxon regiments couldn't be trusted, but they could still very much use them.

Gilbert glanced back at the serious face the soldier was making, obviously awaiting a response from the Colonel. Gilbert smirked. "You're right. Once the Saxons discover we've drunken up the entirety of their kingdom's beer, they are bound to retaliate!"

Klaus burst into laughter and Gilbert fought to swallow another gulp of beer without it spilling from his nose. The man looked angry but knew better than to argue with his Colonel. Gilbert snorted in amusement, glad that the man wasn't completely wasted, or he may just have started a bar fight with the soldier. (not that anyone could take Gilbert, drunk or not)

Gilbert signed and placed a hand on the man's shoulder.

"Cheer up man! Tonight we celebrate our first of many victories in this new conquest! Forget about it and put your trust in the King who got us all here."

The man's eyes connected with Gilbert's for a moment, anger dissipating at his words. Finally he sighed and nodded.

"Gut. Now go get yourself another drink! I can tell from our conversation that you are WAY too sober!"

This caused a slight smile to creep on the man's face as he stood from the table, giving Gilbert a small salute before returning to his previous place at the bar.

"Some men are over thinking their ranks." Klaus commented, watching the man merge with the tavern's crowd.

"_Ja. _But they'll get over it." Gilbert replied, "By the way, which season is it now?"

Klaus thought for a moment, before answering, "October I believe. It has been getting a bit chilled."

"Hmm." Gilbert muttered, eye brows knitted in thought. "At this rate winter will be upon us in no time. Probably won't have any more invasions until after it begins warming up again."

Klaus leaned back in his chair frowning. "Tough luck. And I was just getting back into the grove of battle, and now we're gonna be stuck training again until winter is over!"

"Well, as long as the Russians don't decide to come south for the winter, then yes." Gilbert laughed, and was soon joined by his friend.

"Training aside, we need to enjoy this break! Come on! This is the only night we'll get to drink for a while! Let's be sure to not leave any alcohol left for the regiments who have to wait to drink!"

"True. Can't have the entire Prussian army left vulnerable due to being down with a hangover!" Klaus laughed, raising his glass in the air.

"To Prussia!"

"To Beer!" Gilbert screeched.

"To our families!"

"And don't forget the beer!"

A few drinks later and Gilbert was gone. He and Klaus sat at their table, arms wrapped around each other's shoulders, beer in hand, slurred voices joining the rest of the drunken singing which filled the packed tavern. Now as many knew, Gilbert was an obnoxious man, but he was no idiot. After all, no idiot could become a Colonel (well, maybe in the Austrian army). He could control himself appropriately when he wanted to, however, once drunk, there was nothing stopping him! All self-control within Gilbert's subconscious had also drunken themselves into a frenzy.

Gilbert's laugh seemed to fill the room, and even gather more drunken men to his table. They all joined into their drunken conversation which ranged anywhere from girls to the war, to potatoes, to pirates. They spewed out jokes which didn't even have a punch line, yet they all laughed their throats dry regardless.

Gilbert stood up from his seat, half a beer still in hand, legs a bit wobbly.

"I better head back guys." Gil slurred. "Luddy will be angry if I come home drunk again."

The men were obviously too drunk to care about the nature of Gilbert's words, simply laughing and saluting him as he stumbled from the table.

Though in his drunken state, he didn't notice the shorter man in his path, roughly bumping into him and spilling the remainder of his beer all over the military uniform that he still wore. Gilbert looked down at the middle aged man, who only came up to his shoulder, was staring at his soiled uniform in a mixture of surprise and anger.

Gilbert couldn't help but cackle at the man's expression.

"Sorry fella. Couldn't see you down there." he laughed.

The man's head snapped up to meet Gilbert's gaze, and at the same time the voices in the tavern quieted just a bit, though it went unnoticed by Gilbert.

"Oh really now?" he asked, threateningly, yet with his light voice, Gilbert couldn't take the voice seriously (not that he could anyways in his drunken state). The man kept his face calm but his brown eyes were shining in fury.

Gilbert's grin widened as he stared at the short man, legs swaying and barely keeping balanced. "I don't know what you're doing in the military." he slurred. "It's dangerous work we soldiers do. Maybe you should wait a few years, after you've grown a foot or two."

The voices which had still filled the room suddenly stopped. Not a man moved, nor said a thing as all eyes were glued on the two men.

Not breaking his gaze with Gilbert, the man reached into his pocket, retrieving his handkerchief and whipping his beer dampened face with it. And somehow, through this action, the tension in the room grew even heavier.

After what seemed like an eternity of silence, which Gilbert was just beginning to notice, the man broke the silence. "And you believe that _you _could do better now, boy?"

Gilbert's smirk didn't disappear completely, but it did shrink a little as he raised an eyebrow at the man.

"_Ja_! I'm the awesome Colonel Gilbert Beilschmidt!" Gilbert hollered, hand slapping himself on the chest for emphasis. "I could tear a small man like you apart limb by limb!" his threat was then followed by a light hiccup, making his threat sound empty.

A smile made its way to the man's lips, yet his eyes were still glaring daggers into Gilbert's own. If Gilbert weren't drunk, he would have also noticed the man's hands clenched into fists, shaking slightly as to fight off the urge to deck him in the jaw.

"Beilschmidt eh? Well it appears I'll need to teach you some manners."

Gilbert crossed his arms and snorted. "I'm perfectly awesome, _danke_. I don't need some lame lecture from a grandpa like you."

"Oh no no. I was thinking more of something a bit more violent. How about I take you up on your previous offer Beilschmidt? This _short_ man would like to see just how bloated that ego of yours is."

Gilbert cocked his head, eyes now narrowed in annoyance.

"Is that a duel old man?"

"It very much is."

An evil grin over took Gilbert's face once again as he burst into a horse laughter, which was not joined by anyone. He grabbed his stomach as it ached from his continuous laughter, not able to stop. It took a good minute before Gilbert finally managed to stop, whipping an amused tear in his eye.

"You got yourself a funeral man!" he chortled, putting out his hand to the man.

The man took his hand, his grip much firmer than Gilbert thought (but he would never admit it hurt a little) and shaking in agreement.

Gilbert released his hand, and then proceeded to bend down to the man's level.

"Now what is the name of the man I have the pleasure of showing my awesomeness to?"

Wrinkles creased as the man's eyes narrowed further, yet shown with a bloodthirsty glint.

"Zieten. _General _Zieten."

**Ohonhonhon! Anyone remember Zieten? I purposely didn't delve on him earlier for this very purpose! Those of you who know of him should be worried for Gilbert!**

**My shortest chapter yet, and still took me the longest to write. Sorry guys! I hate doing that. But I've discovered just how much I suck at writing battle scenes! And then of course the history geek in me had to take over…even after I decided not to go into too much depth, I find myself reading into every detail (on Wikipedia of course) and wanting to get everything right.**

**The battle I wrote was the Battle of Lobositz, and then the Siege of Pirna (aka Saxony)**

**Schachmatt : Checkmate**

**Next chapter should come out a lot faster, as I already have everything planned.**

**Sorry again for any mistakes and I hope this wasn't a boring chapter. Gonna have to work on writing battle scenes better.**

**Reviews would be, as Gilbert would say, AWESOME! Please please please leave me some! They really do make my day!**


	5. When Life gives you Lemons

Gilbert sighed heavily and he leaned back against the hard, cold surface of a dying tree. He stood there for a moment, eyes scanning the bare ground around him. There was nothing to be seen but rolling hills laced with yellowing grass, yet he wasn't too far from his camp. It would be unnecessary and dangerous to go too far from his soldiers, yet this spot seemed secluded enough. Well, at least that's what he initially thought. He had spotted a few men wandering around the spot, which had been deemed the battleground for two of Prussia's leaders, and trying to scare each of them off with a murderous scowl. He had been pretty successful at frightening his men so far, yet he knew they were still lurking nearby. Besides, it was still a good hour before the battle was to begin. Gilbert knew more would be arriving soon.

Though only those in the tavern the night before had been there to witness the challenge, word spread like wildfire through not just his regiment, but the entire Prussian army! Duels between to men as high up as a Colonel and a General was unheard of. Gilbert had no doubt that men were placing bets on their heads. Usually Gilbert loved, even sought for attention, but not like this. This situation was completely not awesome.

Gilbert sighed once again, his warm breath turning into steam as it touched the cold, damp, morning air. He was such an idiot! Idiot! Idiot! Idiot! He had challenged his own superior to a duel! And not just any superior, but the famous General Zieten himself! Gilbert leaned his head back and groaned. He had seen the man before, and it was a well-known fact that the man was sensitive about his height, and would often challenge the offender to a duel. And from what he heard, the man hadn't lost one yet!

Not only that, but the General had also been wearing his uniform during the time of the offense. Had Gilbert been sober, he would have immediately recognized the man, and probably wouldn't have even ran into him to begin with. Yet, he just HAD to drink himself stupid again, and now he was going to pay for it with more than just waking up in an alley in Berlin with a killer hangover. Nope, he was paying with his pride, and possibly his career!

He nearly swore off beer for good, but immediately shook off the impossible task. He'd just have to drink less. Yep. Should be easy enough. However, in the back of his mind, he knew that wouldn't happen ether. Shaking his head he turned his thoughts back to his current predicament. He had a duel with the General in roughly an hour. Luckily he hadn't had the worse hangover when he woke up that morning, yet it was also the only time he had remembered what he had done in his drunken state the night before., and it was the one time he wished he had forgotten. Friggin karma.

What was he to do? He doubted any loss of life or serious injury would be necessary. That definitely wouldn't be good for the Prussian army. Not that Gilbert had any doubts that he would win. He was already pretty confident in himself of course, but if there was one thing he believed he was best at, it was his swordsmanship.

Ever since he was a child, he had practiced his fencing. Granted, he had started his training with a stick, but he still practiced, attempting to perform the same moves he had seen his father performing when he practiced. After all, he had always looked up to his father, admiring the strength which seemed to emit from the man whenever in his presence.

It wasn't until he was 8 when he got to hold a real sword. His father had apparently seen Gilbert during one of his self-taught sparring sessions, and decided to test his son's ability. Using wooden swords which his father had on him, the two sparred, and to Gilbert's utmost horror, he lost miserably, which was to be expected of course, but it still hurt Gilbert's pride. However, though Gilbert had lost, his father had deemed him worthy enough to truly learn sword play. The day his father gave him his first sword was one of the greatest days of his life, and probably his mother's worst.

She had thrown a fit at the prospect of her child wielding a sword, not only for his own safety, but the safety of the house! Gilbert had already caused a lot of damage with just the stick after all. But thanks to his father's persuasion, she soon relented, even though Gilbert would still see the worry hidden in her eyes whenever he caught a glimpse of her watching his spar sessions with his father or trainer.

Even after his mother's death, Gilbert continued to train himself. For a few hours of each day, he would spar in the field behind his house, with a young Ludwig watching him from a safe distance. He sure was lucky that Ludwig was such a laid back, so he could leave him to watch while he spared, (usually alone, him having bested his trainer by the time he was 13), without having to worry about the child wandering off.

Then by the age of 17, Gilbert was able to defeat even his father! His father would argue and say that he was tired, after all, he had just returned home from his latest army training when Gilbert demanded they spar. But Gilbert ignored such excuses, having finally accomplished his lifelong goal of defeating his father. It was also served as a big inflation to his ego, much to his father's dismay.

However, his father was still obviously impressed. That was also the day he allowed his son to enter the Prussian army. As much of a military man that he was, Alvar Beilschmidt had refused Gilbert permission to serve alongside him unless he proved that he wouldn't die the moment he entered. It would have been a "waste of the money we used to raise you", as he so kindly put it.

Gilbert chuckled as he remembered his father's harsh, but oh so true words. But he knew his father's true meaning, and actually felt the same about Ludwig. Actually, no, he wouldn't let the boy join even if he had miraculously gained the skills to beat even Gilbert. It was also one of the reasons why Gilbert had refused to ever teach his brother how to handle weapons, apart from using a bow to hunt. No way would he ever let his little brother step foot in this kind of life.

Suddenly the distant sound of chatter broke the silence of the brisk morning, shaking him from his thoughts. He glanced into the distance, noticing that the amount of spectators had grown since he last noticed, yet they all kept their distance, not wanting to get in their Colonel's way, let alone make eye contact. But that wasn't the sound that caught brunt of Gilbert's attention. Eyes darted to the direction of horse hoofs totting along the ground. Crimson eyes widened, immediately recognizing the short, middle aged man, clad once again in his full uniform, even in the distance. (Oh sure, _now_ he recognizes the uniform!)

Due to the growing amount of spectators, Gilbert kept his face blank and emotionless, however, on the inside, he was a complete wreck.

Crap! Crap! Crap! Crap! CRAP!

His heart pounded and his stomach flipped nervously. What was he to do? He couldn't very well defeat the man! He was his superior after all! He wasn't sure what would happen if he destroyed the already wounded pride of his angry superior. Especially in front of the entire Prussian army! However, would he be able to lose purposely? But would he be able to do it? He would lose face with his own men, that was for sure. But, the man was his superior, so perhaps the men would think nothing of his convincing loss, just as long as he put up enough of a fight before his planned defeat.

Surely Gilbert's loss would revive what he had injured of his general's pride, and the loss would be his only punishment. Hopefully…

But before Gilbert could continue to weigh his options, he was already being approached by said General. His brown irises were still full of anger, yet they lit even brighter with confidence. The look made Gilbert twitch in annoyance for a moment before his years of military training kicked in. He immediately straightened from slouching and saluted.

Zieten seemed to find this reaction amusing.

"So now you show respect to a superior officer?" He chuckled. "Don't think that I will go easy on you now that you are sober, Beilschmidt."

Gilbert lowered his hand, the man's pride beginning to tick him off, causing his own ego to override the military training. His usually cocky grin snuck back onto his face and his initial plan of losing forgotten.

"Of course not General. I was simply showing you proper respect before I beat you."

Zieten let out an amused chuckle, obviously no believing Gilbert's claim. Then he turned his head toward a small group of men some 50ft away.

"Hey! Why don't you men make yourself useful and come here!" He shouted.

Then men froze, suddenly cursing themselves for daring to watch from so close. The General was already pretty upset, and they didn't want to confront him. However, making him even angrier was even more frightening. After a moment of hesitation, 5 men trotted towards the two of them, eyes wide in confusion and anxiousness.

"Sir?" One asked politely. Zieten immediately responded by placing his hose reigns in the man's hands. "Take care of her for me while I take care of this."

Then he removed his military jacket and hat, handing those into another pair of open arms. One of the men seemed to understand the situation and turned to Gilbert. "Your jacket, sir?"

Gilbert nodded before removing his own heavy garments. No point in dirtying the uniform in a simple duel after all. One in which Gilbert would win.

A chilled breeze blew through Gilbert's body, making him shudder slightly as he handed over his coat, reminding him once again of the upcoming winter season, although he wouldn't be cold for long with this upcoming duel. He reached to his sword hilt, fingers wrapping firmly against the grip and flexing to adjust correctly.

"Are you quite ready, Beilschmidt? I'd like to have this over quickly. I do have further business to attend to." Zieten sneered, pulling his saber from his decorated sheath.

"Have no fear General." Gilbert smirked, unsheathing his own saber and admiring the blade "I wasn't planning on letting this last long at all.

Zieten's face hardened, eyes watching Gilbert angrily.

"Ready when you are." he muttered, performing the usual bow given to one's opponent. Gilbert dropped his sword to his side, arm tense and ready as he followed up with a bow of his own. Though both were bowed briefly, their eyes never broke off the fierce gaze the two shared. Then as soon as they stood up from their bows, they lunged at each other, metal colliding with a deafening clang.

o00o00o00o

Alvar swung his legs off of his horse and lowered himself to the dying grass below, careful not to put too much weight onto his injured leg. Upon reaching solid ground once again, he tied his horse up to the hitching post before striding toward his destination. He passed by several fellow Prussian soldiers, who merely nodded politely in recognition as he passed. Upon reaching the entrance to the large guarded tent, Alvar glanced down at the officer blocking his path inside. He obviously looked a bit antsy, having to block the giant that was Alvar Beilschmidt from entering temporarily.

"Sir, I'm afraid the king is busy at the moment." The man's voice was firm, but his eyes glanced about, not wanting to make eye contact with his cold blue ones. Alvar wanted to roll his eyes. This must have been a newer recruit if he didn't recognize the man as the King's own advisor.

"Tell the king that Alvar Beilschmidt is here to see him." He stated in his deep voice.

The man's eyes seemed to light up in recognition of the name, nodding and turning to peak his head into the tent. After a few muttered words, the man reappeared and gladly stepped to the side, signaling Alvar permission to enter.

Alvar entered without a second thought, immediately spotting the king upon entrance, who was hunched over a table, wise gray eyes scanning over a map of Europe.

"I see you've finally returned, Alvar. Hope you had a pleasant ride." Frederick stated, eyes not leaving the map as he drew his finger onto its surface.

"Ja. It was fine." Alvar responded matter-of-factly, which caused the king to chuckle before glancing up at his friend.

"News from Berlin perhaps?" he asked, straightening himself from his previous position.

Alvar nodded and walked foreword, handing Frederick a sealed letter.

"We have gotten quite the reaction from our latest siege of Saxony. None of it positive. It has caused quite the fuss among nations. However, these are merely opinions. There haven't been, nor do I suspect there will be any other nations taking any action against us."

"Well we certainly caught our enemies off guard." Frederick muttered, tearing open the letter.

"Even Britain has showed their disproval with the sudden siege, believing it was too early for such action."

"It was the quick action which allowed us victory." Frederick stated, "The Austrians had not expected action so early, and were not yet fully organized during the strike. However-"

Frederick suddenly paused, eyebrows furrowing and eyes glancing to the side.

"Your highness?" Alvar questioned.

"_These were no longer the same Austrians_." he muttered angrily.

"And what do you mean by that?" Alvar asked, his eyebrows raised in interest at the king's words.

"We intercepted them near Lobositz." Frederick began to explain, taking a seat in a wooden chair next to him, and motioning with his head for Alvar to do the same.

"It was a great success of course, but even though the Austrians had rushed preparing an army to reinforce the Saxons, they performed surprisingly well. Not to mention their numbers were much larger than I had first anticipated. They actually held us off pretty well at the beginning before we were finally able to break through their formation. I even lost a General in the cavalry charge."

Alvar's eyebrows also furled in thought. He had been one of the men to help plan this early invasion. How could have the Austrians already have been so formidable so early on?

"But no matter." Frederick stated, bringing Alvar back from his thoughts.

"Winter is coming fast. There won't be time for either party to make a move. We'll have all winter to plan our next moves."

Alvar nodded understandably.

Frederick then turned his attention back toward the letter in his hands, carefully reading it over a few times before handing it to Alvar to read himself. A smile gracing his face.

"The British may not have approved our invasion, but they see the effectiveness in the whole thing." he stated as Alvar read the same information.

"They have obliged to aid us further in our conquest, offering money and supplies." Then the smile on Fredrick's face grew wider. "They have even obliged to send us ground assistance."

Alvar looked up from the letter in surprise, before returning his gaze to the letter to read that information himself.

"Ground support? That's awfully surprising of them! I thought they were simply going to stick with naval support? And what about their war in the Americas?"

"As originally expected, most of their troops will be landed in their American territories, but they still plan to dispatch troops in Europe." commented Frederick. "King George has always been worried about his alliance with Hanover. His main objective is to keep them out of the hands of the French. So it looks as if he is going to dispatch troops under leadership of his younger brother, the Duke of Cumberland, in order to protect Hanover, and in turn, defend our western flank."

Alvar nodded, mulling over this surprising new information.

"Does this mean we will be combining our forces?"

"Of course. I was thinking about the possibility of a combined Anglo-Prussian Camp." Frederick's eyes suddenly lit up. "In fact, while you are here, I'd like to know what your opinion would be if I was to combine young Beilschmidt's regiment with the British!"

Alvar was completely taken aback, hearing his own son being mentioned by the king. Had the boy really made that much of an impression on their leader?

"Gilbert?" Alvar stuttered. "What makes you think he'd be the one for the job?"

Fredrick chuckled. "Do you not think he could handle it?"

"Well," Alvar glanced away, not sure what to say. "Gilbert is certainly capable enough, but what makes you choose him?

"What can I say?" Frederick shrugged. "The boy has impressed me immensely. Not only from his past accomplishments, but even during this last battle, he showed extremely impressive leadership over his regiment, and was one of the ones who helped break through the Austrian's lines. He himself even jumped into the fray to fight!" Frederick had to pause to laugh. "Most Colonels are usually a bit more cautious and have their men do most of the fighting. I like how bold he is. Granted he did kill his horse, but that can easily be replaced."

"Wouldn't you say he's a little too bold?" Alvar asked wearily. He knew his son was a good soldier and leader, yet he was still a little unsure about placing more responsibility on the boy's shoulders.

"Nonsense!" Frederick laughed. "In fact, I wish we had more soldiers like him!"

"Then we'd be horseless and doomed." Alvar stated flatly, which received yet another laugh from his king.

"But seriously Alvar, do you think Gilbert would be up for this? I won't place this upon him if you don't agree."

Alvar sat in silence for a moment, eyes glancing everywhere but at his king, who patiently waited for an answer. Finally Alvar could see no reason to say no, and let out a long sigh. "I guess I can't find a reason to oppose."

"Great!" Frederick exclaimed. "We'll have to wait of course for the final word from Britain and what our next plans of attack will be, but I'll keep Gilbert in mind."

Alvar nodded, keeping as silent as ever.

Frederick tilted his head, gray eyes scanning over his silent friend.

"So, business aside, how have you been, Field Marshall Beilschmidt?"

Alvar's blond brows rose as hearing his old title.

"Well I haven't been called that for some time now." Alvar muttered, the edge of his mouth curling up slightly in amusement. "And I must admit that it is rather dull no longer serving in the field. Then the amount of time I spend on a horse now, needing to support those back in Berlin and here, is pretty tiring. Although…" Alvar paused, turning away slightly, his usual cold eyes softening at the thought.

"Although?" Frederick inquired.

Alvar sighed. He hadn't planned to mention his personal life to his king, friends or not, but he couldn't simply dismiss the idea anymore. When his king wanted to hear something, he heard it!

"Because I'm not needed as much anymore, though saddening, it at least gives me time to spend with my son."

Frederick cocked his head questioningly.

"Ah, my youngest son that is!" Alvar hurriedly added in. "I haven't been able to spend as much time with him as I would have liked before."

Frederick's interests were peaked. Though he had known Beilschmidt for a long time, he knew little about his personal life. In fact, he hadn't even known that Alvar had a son until Gilbert had been up for a promotion, and he was able to put two and two together.

"Another son?" Frederick repeated, his eyes wide in surprise and interest. "Can I assume he'll be joining our ranks sometime soon?"

Alvar chuckled softly, shaking his head. "The boy is only 10, so it'll be a while before then. And even so," Alvar tilted his head slightly in thought. "I'm not sure if he's the military type. Gilbert has always wanted to join the ranks. But it's hard to tell. Ludwig is so quiet."

Frederick burst into laughter.

"Ah! So this one takes after you, does he?" he laughed, "Well that's good! I was a bit worried with how different you and Gilbert are, your wife may have had an affair!"

Alvar glanced at his friend oddly, not sure how to reply to that comment.

"But have no fear Alvar!" Frederick continued, slight wrinkles scrunching as he laughed "You and Gilbert have the same facial structures at least-except for around the mouth. I don't think you're capable of smiling as wide as he can."

Alvar sighed and rolled his eyes.

"I'm glad that my lack of human emotion intrigues you." he responded flatly.

Frederick's smile grew wider and he shrugged. "I haven't had a lot of time to read to entertain myself."

He then folded his arms into his lap and leaned back into his chair, making himself a bit more comfortable.

"So this child, Ludwig you said? Do you mind me asking about him a little? I'm just a little interested in this miniature Alvar, whose existence I have just recently discovered."

Alvar's eyes glanced sadly to the floor; not really wanting to say anything but didn't want to refuse, even though he knew Frederick would be perfectly okay with him not talking. He swallowed, and after a moment his eyes returned Frederick's gaze, lips parting.

"Truthfully, I don't know much about the boy." He admitted sadly. "My wife passed a few years after his birth, and though I tried being there for the boys, it just wasn't enough. Gilbert practically raised him himself, with the occasional hired help."

"Who's taking care of him now?" Frederick asked sympathetically, somewhat understanding this young boy's predicament.

"My nephew is taking care of him now, though it's obviously still hard for him. He's far too attached to Gilbert." Alvar purposely left out the part of his nephew being Austrian.

Frederick nodded in understanding, rubbing his chin with his hand.

He felt as if he should end the conversation there. He'd gotten far more out of Alvar than expected, so he was satisfied. Nor did he want to force the man to talk about his personal life. However it did give him an idea.

Suddenly his eyes widened in realization and he jumped from the chair, startling Alvar with the sudden movement, and snatched a small pocket watch from atop his desk. He clicked it open for a moment before clicking it back shut and sliding it into his pocket.

"It appears it's already begun. I hope I'm not too late." he mumbled, grabbing his uniform jacket which lay neatly atop his cot, and putting it on.

"Late for what?" Alvar asked, thoroughly confused by his king's sudden action.

Frederick looked up from hastily buttoning his coat. "Ah, that's right! You just arrived this morning, which means you haven't heard." Once clothed in full uniform, he reached to a metal chest where his hat sat, placing that atop his head before cracking the chest open.

"It seems that Zieten has gotten himself another duel this morning."

Alvar couldn't help but roll his eyes. The man was quick to anger, especially when it came to young, naïve, and usually drunk idiot decided to mock the man. He wouldn't have been surprised if Zieten had had over 70 duels in his lifetime. But Alvar was curious. Zieten having found a new whelp to humiliate wasn't anything new, so why did Frederick find it needed his attention?

"And, _**whom **_is the duel with?" Alvar asked, guessing that the opponent had to be significant.

Frederick retrieved a small object from the chest before closing it, then glancing at Alvar with a knowing smile on his face.

"Why, none other than the young Colonel Beilschmidt." he answered, watching Alvar's face freeze, nearly void of all emotion as the information sunk in. Suddenly Alvar erupted into geyser of furious swears, nearly screaming each word but each so fast that Frederick could hardly tell what he was saying. He simply watched for a moment as Alvar continued to rage, hands clenching the sides of his head, fingers intertwined with his long blond hair. His eyes were wide and filled with fury.

Suddenly Alvar froze his ferocious rant, ice cold eyes suddenly locking with Frederick's. (Even he had to admit, he felt a chill run through his body under that gaze…)

"Where is he?!" he said, voice shaky in his attempt not to order or yell at his king.

"Come with me. I'm headed there anyways." Frederick answered, marching towards the tent's exit.

A sense of relief suddenly washed over the blond as he stared at his king. Surely he wouldn't allow two of his higher officers to duel!

"You're going to stop them?" he asked, fully expecting the answer to be a yes.

Frederick chuckled, stretching out the telescope in his hands to its full size.

"Stop them? Heavens no! I'm going to watch them."

That was all Frederick said before disappearing from his tent and leaving Alvar frozen in place. It took a moment before the information could seep into his mind, and he finally gained control of his limbs, scrambling off to follow his king.

o00o00o00o

Swords would clash and the next moment Gilbert found himself hopping back to dodge another swing from the General's blade. As soon as the blade whizzed by Gilbert, he lunged back towards his opponent, his own sword swinging. Another flash of silver and the swords collided once again. Gilbert's arm shook as he strained to overpower his enemy's own strength. Their faces were only a few inches from each other. So close that they could feel each other's warm breath as they heaved through clenched teeth The scream of the metal screeched in their ears as they placed more of their weight into it, hoping to push the other back.

Finding that he was unable to push his sword past Zieten's, Gilbert decided on a different approach, braking the tension between the two sabers and dodging back in order to avoid the General's swing. Then stepping to the side, he followed by a furry of offensive strikes, though they were all easily parried off, his last strike happened to hit Gilbert slightly off balanced. Not even a second later, Zieten took advantage of the young Colonel's predicament and stabbed his blade towards him.

Gilbert, who was watching as the blade lunged towards him, knew he could not reposition and parry the attack fast enough, so he simply let himself drop to the ground, the blade just barely whipping over his head. As soon as his belly hit the grass, he twisted himself to roll a few feet away and using the momentum to hop back on his feet, sword swinging at his opponent's shoulder.

Zieten was surprised to see the boy back on his feet so quickly, but was still able to spin himself to face him and just barley stop the oncoming sword from striking his shoulder.. Gilbert growled in frustration and Zieten couldn't help but smugly chuckle, making the Colonel's eyes burn brighter in anger. Gilbert once again strained his arm towards the General. His blade was just centimeters from him. All he needed was to overpower the man enough to get a cut on him. He was so close, yet no matter how much weight he put into his blade, the shorter man was able to keep his sword at bay.

Gilbert was no longer amused with this duel. He was unaware with how much time had passed, but it was getting him nowhere. Though it seemed that Gilbert had the upper hand, being younger and lighter on his feet, the General had much more experience, using techniques and foot work that Gilbert had never seen before. If Gilbert hadn't been as fast as he was, he was sure he would have lost already. But instead, the two were just barely keeping each other at bay.

Sweat dripped down their faces as the breathed in heavily, lungs straining to provide their body with enough oxygen. Nothing could be heard but the two men breathing and the gentle wafting of the nearby tree's branches in the steady autumn breeze. The onlookers had silenced themselves as soon as the duel had begun, being able to feel the tension in the air, not one daring to speak in fear that the two clashing swords might just fly in their direction.

Gilbert loosened his arm, once again jumped back from his enemy, pulling his motionless sword back. Both men lowered their swords to their side, raised slightly in the air, ready for any upcoming strike from their opponent. But neither of them moved. They simply stared at one another, breathing heavily, eyes locked, and feet ready to move in the blink of an eye.

Zieten kept his face hardened, trying not to show any emotion other than his initial annoyance and his determination to make the Colonel pay. However, on the inside he was being racked with all sorts of thoughts and emotions. He worried for his position. He was beginning to be worn down, and wasn't sure how much longer his older body could keep up. He had never lost a duel, and in fact, none had ever gone on this long. He was always able to best his opponent in a matter of minutes, sometimes even seconds.

His weary brown eyes scanned over Gilbert. From his appearance, he was tiring as well, and it was obvious that his movements had slowed a bit as well, but would it be enough? However, even though he was racked with thought and worry of his situation, he couldn't help but feel a bit impressed. The boy had an overly enlarged ego, yet it wasn't completely all for show. The boy showed immense skill, more skill than Zieten had ever seen in a man so young as he. It made him feel a slight pride in the leaders of the Prussian army. However, the amount of pride he felt was not nearly enough to compensate for his wounded pride.

Zieten raised his sword slightly, and Gilbert did the same, both ready for the other to make a move. Another thought entered Zieten's mind, one which worried him. It was obvious that there would be fatalities in duels, some purposely, while others not. In their case, their duel was until first blood or surrender. Already, Zieten knew surrender was not an option for both men, especially for Colonel Beilschmidt. Even just by knowing the boy's father, he knew a man of that family would never consent, and with this boy's ego, there was no chance on earth of that.

But with how evenly matched the two are, simply wounding the other would be an even harder task. If he thought too hard about his strikes, he would easily lose. However, he could quite possibly accidentally fatally wound the man if he went all out. And then, not only would the Prussian army be out of a fine Colonel, but he would never hear the end of it from King Frederick, and especially Alvar.

Zieten sighed, relaxing his hold on his sword. Gilbert's eye brows raised, his lips parting as if to ask what the man was doing. Zieten would almost rather he just died then do what he was going to do, but it was the only thing he could think of doing.

"I'm rather impressed Beilschmidt." He stated, keeping his face and voice proud. "No man has ever kept me at bay for so long. But you appear tired, how about he call it a draw for now." Zieten chose his words carefully, trying to keep as much of his pride as he could, but hoping they weren't prideful enough to set Gilbert off.

Gilbert frowned at the words. He could tell the General was still mocking him slightly, trying to make it appear as if he could have still have won. Yet, he still praised him. That definitely didn't go unnoticed by him. If the man wasn't a General, the praise wouldn't have meant nearly as much. But still, a draw? Seriously? That wasn't cool at all! He was sure that he could still beat this man if they continued. Yet…

Gilbert bit his lip in thought, many of Zieten's own worries popping into his head as well. Was a draw really the best he could do? True, he wouldn't lose face with his men, as he being only a Colonel was of the same level as a General, yet the man was still twice his age. Gilbert growled in frustration. Either way, his ego was taking a beating, yet he couldn't think of a better alternative. He body was extremely wearing after their long duel which seemed to get him nowhere. Although he knew the General, who was so infamously known for his victory in duels, was definitely taking a blow by admitting the draw.

Just that amount of info was enough for Gilbert. He too sighed and lowered his sword, placing it back in his sheath and nodding.

"Fine. I'll concede to a draw for your sake, General. I wouldn't want to kill you." Gilbert said as he reached his hand out to shake the man's hand. Zieten nearly rolled his eyes in disgust, suddenly having to push down the urge to suddenly slice his outstretched hand out, and instead took it in his own, shaking it.

Cries of complaints suddenly erupted from the crowds of spectators, upset with the boring outcome and their wasted bets. Gilbert wanted to turn and cuss the men out, but Zieten beat him too it, spinning around and projecting his usual soft voice to carry at the protestors.

"Oi! If any one of you pieces of manure has any complaints, I am more than ready enough to take you on here and now!"

This immediately shushed the men's complaints. No one wanted to anger the man, especially not after witnessing his swordsmanship first hand, even if he was exhausted.

Zieten snorted at their silence. "Yeah, that's what I thought you said. Now why don't you useless cow sacks get back to your posts before we court martial you!"

Funny how a few words can send a few hundred men or so fleeing from the premises, and back towards their designated camps. Gilbert nearly laughed at the sight, before slowly walking towards the man who held onto his uniform jacket. Seeing his Colonel approaching him, he hurriedly made his way towards him, handing him his military jacket before saluting and heading back to his own camp himself.

Gilbert tiredly put his jacket back on him, not liking how much it warmed his already sweat covered body. He waited until Zieten had done the same and had retrieved his horse by the reigns before speaking.

"It was a pleasure fencing with you sir." He said respectfully, his ego no longer controlling his head. Zieten glanced at him wearily before nodding, a slight smile creeping over his lips.

"It was" he muttered, leaning against his horse slightly to provide support to his weary body.

"I must admit Beilschmidt, that I hadn't expected you to be so skilled. Never before have I been forced to call a draw. Rather humiliating truthfully."

Gilbert couldn't help but laugh, yet he didn't attempt to hold it back, now that both men were alone and no longer angry.

"Ja. It was a bit saddening. I was really looking forward to beating a General." Gilbert sighed, taking a few steps back to lean on the lone tree which had graced them with its presence during the duel.

"Though…." Gilbert paused, biting his lip at what he would say next. They were no longer considered equals, as the duel had already concluded.

"I do apologize for yesterday, General. I wasn't myself."

Zieten crossed his arms, eye brows narrowed in annoyance as he recalled Gilbert's words. Drunk or not, he was not happy with the man belittling him. Though he himself had to admit, he was a bit drunk that night as well. He did like himself a good beer.

"Whatever lad. What's been done is done." Zieten shrugged, still a little annoyed but he knew he had to forget about it.

Gilbert opened his mouth to speak again, but stopped when he noticed the sound of approaching horse hooves. Both Gilbert and Zieten turned to look upon the two riders; Gilbert freezing upon realizing their identities, simply muttering, "Oh crap."

The first rider was a man of his mid-forties, clad in his Prussian blue uniform with a bright silver Prussian star pinned to his chest. He wore a large black hat, laced with clean white feathers, which sat atop his curled powdered wig. He was followed by a very familiar man with a large build, long golden blond hair flowing in the wind behind him, and a stone cold face which turned Gilbert's blood to ice. As the two slowed their horses upon approaching the two men, Gilbert did everything he could not to make eye contact with those cold, blue eyes, fearing he may just lose his life the moment he did.

"King Frederick!" Zieten exclaimed in surprise as the first man reared his horse, stopping so he was facing the two. Gilbert only managed a polite nod at the sudden appearance of the royal. (Plus the tension he could feel as his father nearly stabbed through him with his glare kept him silent)

"Good day Zieten!" Frederick greeted cheerfully. "Lovely day for a duel, is it not?"

Zieten chuckled nervously, glancing away. Gilbert shuffled his feet and looked on the ground. Of course it was no surprise that the King knew. After all, their duel had hardly been a secret with how many men had known and come out to watch.

"Yes. Quite." Zieten replied, still appearing a bit nervous at his king's appearance.

"So what brings you out here today then?" he followed up, wanting to move the conversation along and hopefully away from them.

"Well it's not every day that I have one of my most trusted Generals participating in an illegal duel with one of our Colonel's, and my advisor's son at that!" Frederick responded, not sounding a bit angry, but his eye brow was raised as his grey eyes stared intensely at his General.

Frederick waited a moment for a response from Zieten, but when he received none, he sighed, shaking his head. "And here I only wanted you to meet and get to know Colonel Beilschmidt, not duel him. Though I suppose since you two didn't kill each other its fine."

Gilbert whipped his head up to stare at his king questioningly.

"Wait, what?"

A smile spread on Frederick's face upon seeing Gilbert's confused face and he laughed.

"I had wanted Zieten to officially meet you, and in some way test your skills for himself, perhaps by sparring or by other means, but I hadn't anticipated that he'd go and turn it into an official duel." Frederick explained briefly, then muttering to himself, "Though I'm guessing alcohol was probably involved in this scenario."

Then he turned his eyes to his General.

"From what I watched, General Zieten, Gilbert was able to hold you at bay. What do you think of him?"

Zieten snorted. "A bit of a brat with an ego, but he puts up a good fight. Great reflexes and speed. Swordsmanship is also good, though he could always use some more experience fighting."

Gilbert wasn't sure whether he should be honored or offended by the man's words, yet he kept himself silent.

Frederick nodded his head in satisfaction. "Good, good. Well then, please return to your hussars Zieten, and I'll be ready to discuss our next plan of attack with you at midday."

Gilbert flinched as a hand suddenly smacked the back of his head lightly, turning to see Zieten smirking at him.

"Farewell kid." He laughed mischievously before hopping onto his horse. He nodded once to Frederick and then Alvar, (who responded with his usual cold stare) before kicking his heels into his horse and taking off, disappearing over the hills towards camp.

Once he was gone, Gilbert glanced back up at his king, still not sure with what happened.

"Wait…this was all just a test then?" he asked wearily.

"Yes." Frederick replied, "Although it did get a bit out of hand towards the end, it worked out great. Plus it did provide some entertainment for me and the men, as well as perhaps served as to humble you just a bit?"

Gilbert wanted to snort and sarcastically reply with a 'Yeah right!' at his last comment, but refrained himself from doing so. And then the information began to seep a bit more into Gilbert's brain.

"You were watching?! How long? Where?!" Gilbert questioned, face turning a bit red in embarrassment. He couldn't believe that his king had witnessed all that!

"Of course. We were a bit late but you two fought long enough that we were able to see plenty." Frederick waved his folded telescope in emphasis, and motioning to a faraway hill which looked over the area. "Alvar was practically begging me to jump in and stop the duel!" He added in, chuckling, and making the large blond man's eyes widen.

"I just- I just didn't want my son making a bigger fool of himself and the Beilschmidt name!" he retaliated, eyes glancing to the side. Gilbert couldn't help but smirk at his father's attempt to appear tough and uncaring. It was then at the sound of Gilberts chuckle that Alvar shot his icy gaze back towards his son.

"We need to talk Gilbert." He said coldly, making Gilbert almost shrink back under his stare.

Frederick watched the two in amusement, finding their family relationship sweet, yet he couldn't help but feel a slight bit of jealousy as well.

"You Beilschmidts can bond later. But for now, I have something I'd like to propose to the two of you. Gilbert, your father tells me you have a younger brother?"

Gilbert perked up at his kings words, staring at him questioningly.

"Ja. Ludwig. Mein kleiner bruder."

Frederick smiled before nodding to the side and getting his horse to walk in that direction slowly.

"Come take a walk with me you two."

Gilbert glanced at his father, but by the look he was giving his king, he wasn't too sure of what he wanted to say ether.

**Author Notes:**

**This chapter didn't quite come out as good as I wanted, but at this point I just need to post it, especially since I'm already half way through the next chapter.**

**Not the best ending of a chapter, but what is it that Fritz has concocted?! Huh? HUH?! Well we'll find out next chapter!**

**History: Not a lot in this chapter, mostly just the aftermath of Frederick's siege on Pirna. And you have no idea how happy I was to discover that the British actually sent out land troops in Europe! Heh, this is gonna be great!**

***The line "These are no longer the same Austrians" was a real quote from Frederick during the battle of Lobositz (of course I made it past tense for my purposes)**

***General Zieten really did participate in 74 separate duels during his life, usually because men would be as stupid as Gilbert and mock his height of soft voice. Well he certainly showed them!**

***Also, duels were apparently illegal in Europe at this time, so they were usually super private, though I suppose it'd be hard for anything Gilbert did to be secretive. But they could have gotten in a lot of trouble for it, and probably would have if they weren't both important to the military!**

**REVIEWS PLEASE! They make me so happy!**


	6. Hay is for Horses

"No no Ludwig. Don't put your hands on the keys like that!" Roderich scolded, leaning behind Ludwig and grasping his small hands, placing them on the piano keys. "See, just like that. Doesn't it feel more natural?"

Ludwig's brows knitted as he glanced up at his older cousin. "Nein. It feels weird."

Roderich frowned and he placed his hands on his hips. "Well then you're going to have to get used to this position. This is the proper way to play after all."

Ludwig glanced back down at the keys, fingers softly pressing a few in order before shaking his head.

"But _Bruder_ showed me a little, and it's a lot easier his way." Ludwig muttered to himself quietly, but it was clear from Roderich's snort that the other had heard.

"Gilbert knows nothing about how to properly play the piano, Ludwig! He only learned the most basic songs from listening to me play, but never learned any more than that! If you want to learn how to play correctly, then you must refrain from key picking and instead use the formation I am trying to teach you!"

Ludwig wanted to argue back that he didn't want to learn how to play the piano, but seeing as Roderich had now taken it upon himself to tutor Ludwig in all of his studies, piano was now a permanent part of his schedule. He missed having Gilbert tutor him. Gilbert showed him for the most part how to read and write, and also taught him history. Though his brother did leave the intricate details and "boring" subjects to the tutors his father hired, Gilbert was still a large part of his studies, and it saddened Ludwig to suddenly have to adjust to such different teaching methods. (Even if Roderich did seem a little smarter than his brother at times.)

Ludwig sighed and retracted his fingers, trying to get used to the new position, before lightly tapping the keys to play a short, simple song that Gilbert had once taught him. He clearly messed up a few times, but was glad that Roderich didn't say a word as he continued to play. When Ludwig was finished, Roderich nodded contentedly.

"Good good. A few mistakes but nothing major. We'll continue to practice with that form and soon you'll find this position much more to your liking. I'll also be able to teach you a few more simple compositions."

Ludwig nodded, a bit happy for the praise, yet he still wasn't looking forward to having to learn more. Then glancing towards the tall grandfather clock which stood in the corner of the room. A large smile plastered itself to his face as he spun around to face his cousin.

"Roddy! Look! Its noon! Does that mean I can go play now?" he asked excitedly, small hand pointed towards said clock.

Roderich glanced at the clock, muttering a quiet "already?" Then pursing his lips in thought, he glanced back down at the waiting Ludwig, whose giant blue eyes watched him in anticipation, waiting for their freedom. Roderich sighed and nodded.

"Well, I guess if it is noon it means we are done for the day. But we still have yet to-"

Before Roderich could finish, Ludwig was off the piano bench and racing from the room, causing Roderich to flinch in surprise as he raced passed him mid-sentence.

"Ludwig, wait! Hold on!" Roderich called back as the boy raced up the staircase in the direction of his room. When he reached his destination, Ludwig raced towards the fancy dresser in the corner of the room, ripping open the drawers and staring at his stacks of nicely folded clothing. In his excitement he tossed the unwanted clothing from the drawer in order to hasten his search. It wasn't long before he found the wool winter clothes he had been searching for, removing a few knit shirts, a pair of gloves and a pair of thick winter pants.

He didn't waste any time dressing himself in the clothes. After all, Elizaveta had promised to play with him in the fresh snow which had fallen the night before. He had always loved playing in the snow! He and Gilbert would build Snowmen of all different shapes and sizes, and then pretend that they were real people before attacking them. (Gilbert often made a snowman with glasses and would place a small pebble just below the mouth, which he said was a mole. He always dismantled this particular snowman in the most destructive ways possible) They also would build all sorts of forts in the snow, Gil once attempted building an igloo, but it collapsed on him the moment he entered. It was a good thing Ludwig was there to dig his _bruder_ out.

A small frown slipped onto Ludwig's face as he reminisced. He wouldn't be able to play with his _bruder_ in the snow this year, would he? Though they were never able to play as much ever since Gilbert joined the military, they were still able to enjoy the snow together at least a few times every year. Sadly, from what _Vati_ described to him, this war wasn't going to end anytime soon. Not to mention that his brother was in a high command, and was needed more by the king…..just like _Vati_.

Ludwig glanced over to his writing desk, staring at the folded sheets of paper tucked nicely to the side. Since his father's visit, and his first letter from Gilbert, he had gotten only one other, sent a bit more than a month ago. Gilbert had talked about all the success their army had had, and about them beating the Austrians. He also mentioned that he had even recently dueled with one of his Generals and won.

These letters from Gilbert were his prized processions. Every time he felt lonely, he would reread his letters, imagining that his brother were right next to him, his obnoxious voice rambling off all of his previous achievements. He wondered if Gil imagined the same when he received Ludwig's letters.

Ludwig glanced out the window, eyes scanning over the white veil which blanketed the earth. He had written Gilbert just after receiving his letter. Now that it was mid-December, his brother certainly should have received it by now. Yet post was never predictable, especially now that winter had fallen. Thought it was unlikely, he still hoped that Gilbert's next letter would arrive before Christmas. That's all he wanted after all.

"Ludwig!"

The call of his name snapped him from his thoughts. His gaze broke off of the window and he turned towards the door, once again hearing his name being called out by the familiar feminine voice.

"_Ja_, Elizaveta?" Ludwig called back out.

The bedroom door squeaked open slightly as Elizaveta poked her head into the room, bright green eyes staring at Ludwig questioningly, yet her lips still held her usual sweet smile.

"Roderich said you finished your lessons today. Do you still want to go outside with me?"

Ludwig's chest seemed to heat up a bit. Though he still horribly missed his brother, he was extremely thankful that he at least had Elizaveta, one of his brother's closest friends, who cared for him.

Ludwig smiled and nodded.

"Alright then" Eliza cheered and then nodded her head to leave. "Come on. We have to get you a coat and a scarf. And don't forget your boots!"

"Ja." Ludwig answered, beginning to step towards the girl before noticing the mess of clothes he had just created on the floor from when searching through his clothing. He bit his lip as he stared at the mess. He couldn't just leave his room like this!

Elizaveta in the meantime, had begun to walk away from the room, expecting to have Ludwig following just behind her, but after making it half way down the staircase, she noticed he wasn't. Curious, she returned back to his room, peeking inside.

She nearly called out his name to ask why he hadn't followed, but stopped when she noticed him folding every single article of clothing in which he had gone through when searching for his winter clothes, and carefully placing the folded articles back into their respective places in the drawer. She had to bite her tongue in order to contain her laughter. What kind of child was so organized that he would put off playing so that he could tidy up his room? From what had seen earlier, the room hadn't even been a much of a mess. _Her_ room was messier actually. Just a tad though.

Ludwig huffed in satisfaction as he scanned through the drawer, all of his clothing once again cleanly folded and placed into their respectful places. Then remembering what it was he was going to do, he raced out from his room, almost passing by Eliza entirely before he spotted her in the corner of his eye, jumping in surprise at her sudden reappearance. She chuckled lightly at surprise, smiling warmly.

"Are you finally ready Ludwig?"

He shook his head. "Nein. I still need my winter coat."

Eliza nodded understandingly. "I remember Gilbert giving me a box of your winter clothing. They should be in a closet down stairs."

Ludwig nodded and followed as Eliza bounded down the stairs. Ludwig noted at how happy the woman appeared.

Once Ludwig reached the bottom of the stairs, she held her hand out to him and told him to wait. And so he did-waiting patiently as she bound out of the room, hearing a closet being opened and the sound of rustling clothing. A minute later she returned, her arms stuffed with a large assortment of clothing, much more than Ludwig would need.

"Eliza! If I wear all that I won't be able to move!" Ludwig commented, watching as the large pile was thrown at his feet. He recognized some of the clothing, but others he didn't.

"You don't need to wear all of these" Eliza giggled, patting his head in amusement, causing the blond to pout as she messed up his hair. "I just noticed how small a lot of your clothes are. Are you sure these still fit?" She held up Ludwig's old winter jacket for him to see.

"I think you've grown a bit since last winter."

Ludwig took the jacket from her hands, staring at it carefully and rubbing his fingers along the dark blue dyed wool. As much as he enjoyed hearing that he had grown, and though he didn't mind outgrowing clothing, he didn't want to outgrow this coat. It was one that Gilbert had bought for him a few years ago. He had loved how its dark blue matched the color of his brother's uniform. It made him feel like he was a soldier as well. It made him feel proud.

Ludwig reached an arm through the coat, and then another. Sure enough, when he buttoned it closed, it tightened uncomfortably around his torso. He just managed to get the buttons hooked, but they were obviously strained. He shifted uncomfortably, trying to decide whether he still wanted to wear it or not.

Elizaveta smiled as he watched him try to adjust the coat to a more comfortable fit. Shaking her head she reached out to unbutton the coat. "Sorry Ludwig. You're just too big for it now. Not only is it tight on you, but the sleeves are too short. Your arms would freeze."

"But what else could I wear? This is my only coat." Ludwig pouted, blue eyes staring into Eliza's questioningly.

"That's why I brought these!" Eliza replied, hands out to the pile on the floor.

"They are old clothes of Roderich's from when he was younger. Found them in a box in the back of the closet. Go on and put on whatever you like."

Ludwig glanced at the pile, grabbing a few of the coats to hold up for further inspection. It was clear that the coats were old, some of them pretty worn down. Why hadn't Roderich thrown these out already?

In order to speed things along, Eliza also dug through the clothing, holding different coats out to Ludwig to see whether they'd fit. Ludwig dug through the clothing, which comprised of not only coats, but of scarves and gloves as well. He reached out and pulled an old black coat from the pile, holding it out. It was worn a bit, but still in good enough condition. Although there was a large ugly patch on the shoulder, sewn to the coat who knows how long ago to cover a hole of some sort.

"Ah! I remember that one!"

Ludwig pulled the coat down to glance at the Eliza as she scanned over the clothing.

"That one was actually Gilbert's to begin with! But once he outgrew it, Roderich got it."

Ludwig stared at Elizaveta wearily. Why on earth would Roderich wear a hand-me-down? And Gilbert's at that!

As if she could read his thoughts, she answered, "Believe it or not, Roderich's father, your uncle, was a bit of a tight wad. He would do anything if it meant saving money, which, Roderich sort of inherited from him. But anyways, this also included Roderich's clothing. And since of course Gilbert has always been taller than him, he inherited some of his clothes." And with that comment, Eliza snorted in amusement. "Well, at least whichever clothes Gil still had that weren't an utter mess."

A smile suddenly grew on Ludwig's face as he stared back at the ugly patch on the coat's arm. His brother may treat his clothes well when they aren't on his body, but didn't stop him from ruining the ones he wore while engaging in one of his crazy antics.

"Can I have this one?" Ludwig asked, holding the coat closer to him.

"Of course! But only if it fits." Eliza replied.

Ludwig nodded, placing his arms through the coat arms, hoping that it would fit. Once one, Eliza leaned over and buttoned it closed, then leaned back to inspect it. It was obvious that it was too big, hanging loosely to his lower thigh, and the sleeves covering everything but his finger tips. Yet it still wasn't too loose, and already was serving its purpose at warming his body.

"It's a bit big" Eliza commented, but sounded unsure. Her green eyes glanced back at Ludwig. She would rather he tried another, but the look Ludwig was giving her was practically begging her to let him wear it. She sighed, shrugging. "Well I suppose it will do for now. And you'll grow into it eventually."

Elizaveta couldn't help but smile as Ludwig's face brightened happily. He wrapped his arms around the large coat, hugging it closer.

"_Danke_ Eliza!"

"Of course, Ludwig." She smiled back, and then tossed a scarf she had found around his neck, wrapping it firmly.

"Get your boots on! It's best to play now while the day is at its warmest."

Ludwig did as he was told, walking to the door and grabbing his boots which were waiting for him.

"Do you like the snow Eliza?" he asked as he stuffed his feet into the shoes.

"Of course!" Elizaveta cheered. "Used to play in it all the time when I was your age! But now that I'm older, it's hard to find the time, and someone to enjoy it with."

Ludwig finished lacing up his boots and stood up. "Doesn't Roderich ever play with you?"

"HA!" Eliza laughed. "No, I'm afraid he's never been a fan of the snow. He says it's too childish to play in the snow." Then she leaned over towards Ludwig, her eyes gleaming and her lips twisted into a mischievous grin.

"But those are just his words." she says to Ludwig quietly. "I think he just has bad memories of being pelted by snow balls by me and Gilbert."

A small giggle escaped Ludwig's lips as he pictured his older cousin with his arms over his head, yelling as a fury of snow balls rained over him.

Eliza joined his laugh with a chuckle of her own.

"Alright then! You better prepare yourself for the most intense snow ball fight of your life!"

Ludwig's smile disappeared and was replaced with a blank stare, just realizing what he has gotten himself into. But it was too late. Eliza already had him by his arm and was pulling him out towards the door with her. The woman was already frightening when she was passionate about something, but seeing as how she has been deprived for so long, Ludwig began to fear for his life.

"Uh, wait Eliza! Wait! _Bitte_! I don't wanna go! Wait! _Bitte_! _Nein_! _Neiiiiiiin_!"

O00o00o00o

Ludwig sat at the table, a warm blanket draped over his shoulders and a warm cup of tea placed in his red fingers. He wasn't shivering as much as he had been a few minutes before, but his body still shook slightly, trying to create enough friction to warm his small, frozen body. He took a slow sip of the beverage, sighing contently as the warm liquid slipped down his throat, warming his body.

Eliza stood in the kitchen, back leaning against one the counters, holding her own cup of tea. She smiled as she watched Ludwig's attempts to warm himself.

"That's what happens when you wear a coat that's too big for you. It was far too easy for snow to get inside." she laughed, causing Ludwig to throw her a glare. He swore he would never play with that woman again! She was a monster out there, and he could tell that she got like that from growing up with a bunch of boys, especially some as rowdy and competitive as his brother. His left cheek throbbed due to a snowball she had thrown at him with such intensity; he swore it felt like a rock.

Noticing the boys glare, Eliza walked to the table, sitting beside him. "Ah, come on Luddy! I didn't mean to be so harsh on you! I had thought that with Gilbert as your brother, you'd have been more tactful in these sorts of games."

That was a blow to Ludwig's pride. All these years and he had thought that he was good at these sort of games. But now it was clear that Gilbert had taken it easy on him all his life. He sighed, shaking his head.

"It's ok Eliza." Ludwig replied quietly. "It was just a game after all."

Elizaveta grinned and threw her arm around him, squeezing him against her side.

"That's the spirit Ludwig! I'm so glad you aren't as competitive as your brother!"

He's not, but he still has his pride as a Beilschmidt. He would have to redeem himself sometime. But probably not until he was bigger. His size was a great disadvantage after all.

Ludwig was thinking of some way to reply when his thoughts were interrupted by a loud knock at the front door. His heart leapt from his chest as his head snapped in the direction of the door. He then quickly glanced up at Eliza, who also had her eyes staring in the direction of the door. She glanced down and their gazes locked onto each other.

"You think it's the mail?" She asked him, a grin growing on her face. With her confirmation, his eyes widened further and he could no longer sit still. He leapt from his seat, completely forgetting about how cold his body had been earlier, and dashed from the room. He reached the door just as another powerful knock resounded from its wooden surface. Without second thought, he gripped the twisted the knob and threw the door open, expecting to see the skinny post man, wrapped in his wool clothes, a leather satchel on his waist. However, he was not expecting to have to look up so far in order to see this man's face. His thick nose and muscular cheeks were tinted pink, having obviously been outside for quite some time. Most of his hair was covered by a warm winter cap, but long blond strands still stuck out an odd angles, having been blowing in the freezing wind for a time. Ludwig was rendered nearly speechless as his blue eyes stared widely into the man's equally blue ones.

"_Va-Vati_?" He muttered, not yet believing that it was really his father which stood him. Alvar took in a deep breath, sounding tired from the journey here, but nodded, his lips curling ever so slightly in his own sort of smile.

"Been a while son."

Hearing his father's voice snapped his body from its temporary paralysis, and before ether of the two knew it, Ludwig had nearly tackled the man, making him take a step back as Ludwig's arms tightened around his waist, his face buried in his thick winter coat.

Alvar once again didn't know how to react. He simply stood in place, not daring to move as he youngest clung to him. He glanced up for a moment to see Elizaveta standing inside, her face beaming at the sight. He gave her a sort of pleading look, not knowing what to do, but she simply frowned, moving her hands, suggesting he do something, rather than stand there blankly.

He sighed, turning his gaze back to his son who had just recently turned his face to again stare at his father's face. He bent down slightly, taking a hand to the boy's hair and running his fingers through it. Seeing the joy on his youngest son's face made his chest feel warm, and he had to force himself not to smile awkwardly himself.

"Ah, I thought it might be nice to spend some more time with you- what with Christmas coming up and everything." Alvar explained nervously, straightening his back, a hand unconsciously going to the back of his own head to grasp at his own hair which stuck out from his cap.

"Really!" Ludwig exclaimed gleefully, his eyes gleaming and mouth forming a wide smile. It almost hurt Alvar to see the boy so happy, realizing that the boy had expected to spend Christmas alone with nobody by his current caretakers.

"Of course." he replied, giving his son's head another rough rub, making the boy giggle joyfully.

"Why don't you come in? You must be exhausted from the long ride." Roderich's voice echoed from just inside. Ludwig glanced behind him, seeing him standing next to Eliza, a small smile gracing his face. Ludwig had been so excited that he hadn't noticed the constant piano melody which filled the house cease, nor did he notice the man approaching.

Alvar nodded, but then turned his gaze back to his son. "But first," He began, his words grabbing Ludwig's gaze. He knelt down so that he was closer to Ludwig's eye level. "Gilbert wanted me to deliver a gift for you."

Ludwig's face brightened even further, if that was even possible, which Alvar found sort of odd, seeing the young face which resembled his own, look so joyful, was sort of odd. Yet it did nothing but make him happy.

"A letter! Did he write a letter for me?" Ludwig asked ecstatically, bouncing up and down on the balls of his feet. Alvar couldn't help but chuckle slightly as he shook his head. "Nope. Even better."

Ludwig stopped for a moment, eye brows knitted as he tried to think of what else it could be if not a letter.

"It's in the stables if you want to see it."

All thought was immediately put aside and Ludwig found himself beginning to race out from the open door, but a strong force on his arm kept him from running any further.

"Whoa, I know you're excited son, but you'll at least need to put on some warmer clothes if you want to go out." his father told him, eyes gleaming humorously.

Ludwig sighed, but quickly returned inside, racing to where he had left his coat and boots. Not even bothering to lace his boots or button his coat, he found himself racing once again passed his family and out into the frigid air.

Alvar watched as his son trudged as fast as he could through the fallen snow that covered the ground like a blanket, not being able to hold back a chuckle as Ludwig even stumbled a few times in his hurried steps. He turned his gaze back to Roderich and Eliza, amused by the curious looks they were giving him.

Ludwig reached the stable doors, breath heavy as he had run as fast as he could across the courtyard in his loose boots. Upon reaching the door, he noticed all sorts of imprints laced in the snow which he recognized as horse and foot prints. Snow had been pushed away from the door, obviously already been opened previously.

His mind was reeling as all sorts of ideas, both probable and improbable ran through ran through his thoughts. What on earth could it be? Ludwig's gloveless hand gripped the cold metal handle, which stung his bare skin at the touch, but he was far too excited to care. He pulled the door open and stepped inside, the warmth of the stable soothing to his pink cheeks and hands.

A look of confusion crossed over his features as he glanced around. He had expected the surprise to be sitting out in the open, but from what he could see, the stable looked the same as ever. It still stunk of hay and horse pelt, and there was nothing but the usual, hay and horses. He stepped up to one of the stalls, usually open, but was now occupied by a large dark brown mare, obviously his father's. He glanced into the stall, expecting to see something hidden with it, but saw no such thing. The horse snorted heavily, its warm breath brushing his face.

Ludwig reached up and stroked the horse's muzzle gently before moving on down the rows. Again, nothing seemed the least bit off. Even the horses seemed to stare at him curiously, as if wondering why the heck he was even there. Ludwig began to wonder the same. His excitement beginning to die. What was he supposed to even be looking for? He stopped in the middle of the row of stalls, eyes scanning over the faces of the few horses in their stalls. Everything was completely normal.

He sighed, about to turn and leave, when something suddenly popped into his mind. He turned back to the horses, staring at each of them. Roderich only owned two horses, so then why were their four stalls filled? Blue irises locked onto an unfamiliar gray stallion. It's brown eyes glanced at him for a moment before lowering its head to feast on the hay laid out in its stall. He began to step towards the steed, head tilted as he tried to come up with a reason for its appearance. He was so lost in thought that he didn't even notice the rustling hay behind him, that is, until it was too late.

Something long and strong snapped around his torso and in a split second, he felt his feet lifting from the ground as he his body. He barely had time to scream before he felt himself falling into the pile of hay behind him. Ludwig struggled for a moment to free himself from the stranger's grasp, kicking wildly and fingers digging to try to pry the force off his chest. Though it was only a moment later when he heard a loud, familiar laugh echo into his ears, immediately stopping his struggles.

"Rule one Ludwig, if assaulted by a larger enemy, immediately attack their sensitive areas, such as their eyes or nose."

Ludwig didn't even notice that he was holding his breath as he turned his head as far back as he could, blue eyes locking with those too familiar crimson orbs.

"_Bruder_?" Ludwig asked wearily, not sure if his mind was just playing a cruel trick on him.

His brother's trademark grin spread on his face and his arms tightened to hold him closer.

"Who else Luddy?"

Ludwig stared blankly at his brother, eyes taking in the ever familiar features, mind confirming that that face and voice could belong to nobody but Gilbert. Without even realizing it, Ludwig felt something warm and wet running down his cheek. Gilbert's smiled dissolved into a shocked frown upon seeing his brother's tears.

"Eh? Ludwig! What's wrong buddy?" Gilbert asked, readjusting his brother in his lap so that he was facing him. His gloved hand came up and gently brushed the tears away from Ludwig's cheek. Ludwig couldn't move. He continued to stare at his brother, even as his vision blurred from the tears. He couldn't mutter a word, only managing to release a wet sob from his throat. Gilbert titled his head curiously before pulling his brother closer so that his face was buried in the crook of his neck. One hand rubbed through Ludwig's blond hair, while the other rubbed circles on his back as he sobbed.

"Shhh, this isn't the time to cry, _kleiner Bruder." _Gilbert soothed.

Ludwig raised his arms to wrap around his brother's neck and buried his face even deeper into Gilbert's neck. He hated crying. He really did. But he just couldn't contain himself as months' worth of anxiety and grief was washed out of him, being replaced by happiness and relief.

"I missed you _Bruder_." Ludwig managed to mutter under his sobs.

"I missed you too Ludwig." Gilbert replied softly, burying his face onto his brother's head, breathing in his brother's familiar scent. It surprised him Gilbert with just how much he missed his brother as well. They'd been separated for not even six months, and this was how they reacted? It worried Gilbert. What were they to do once Gilbert left again? Especially with the war just picking up, he'd surely not get another chance to visit anytime soon.

He sighed, kicking his worries to the back of his mind, deciding to simply enjoy his brother's presence once again. He and Ludwig continued to embrace until the sobs died down, and Ludwig pulled away a bit, so that he could stare back into Gilbert's eyes.

"_Bruder_, why are you here?" he asked, not because he didn't want him here, but because he definitely had not expected to be seeing him again so soon.

Gilbert grinned. "I'm here for Christmas of course!" he answered, as if it was obvious.

Ludwig shook his head. "No, I mean, how are you here? I thought you'd be too busy to come."

"Ah, well that's a long story." Gilbert stated, rubbing his hand on his head. "But to sum it up, I was doing such a great job that Ol' Fritz decided to give me a short break!"

"'Ol' Fritz'?"

"King Frederick. I just like to call him Fritz. But don't tell _Vater_ that! He'd kill me!"

Ludwig smiled wider, once again wrapping his arms around his brother's neck.

"I like Fritz." Ludwig muttered, tightening his hug briefly.

"_Ja_, me too." Gilbert chuckled, patting his hand on Ludwig's back. "Now what do you say we get out of this hay? I've been laying in it for a good ten minutes now, and it's rather itchy."

"Then don't be stupid and hide in the hay _bruder_." Ludwig scolded; staring his brother in the eye. Gilbert looked little taken aback by the comment, but then broke into laughter.

"You're starting to get a bit sassy, aren't you? Well I suppose you _did_ learn from the best after all."

"Oh please don't leave any more of your _lovely _personality traits on my son, Gilbert." a familiar deep voice echoed through the stables, causing both brothers to turn their gazes towards the doors, where their father stood.

"Oi! I'm your kid too, old man!" Gilbert chided, feigning annoyance.

Alvar rolled his eyes, and replied in a flat voice "With how you behave, I prefer to believe Ludwig is an only child."

Gilbert burst out into laughter, making both Ludwig and his father raise an eyebrow.

"See that Luddy!" Gilbert exclaimed. "That's the kind of sass that runs in the Beilschmidt's veins!"

Ludwig tilted his head slightly, not understanding the joke, while Alvar sighed, placing a palm over his face and shaking his head. Gilbert only continued to laugh, Ludwig's bewildered look making him laugh even more.

Alvar sighed once again, trotting up to his two sons, still settled in the pile of hay.

"Come on out of the hay, you two. I don't want you smelling like the horses." With his words he reached a hand out to Gilbert, who gladly took it. However, rather than Gilbert using his hand to hoist himself up, he instead did the exact opposite, catching him by surprise as he himself was pulled into the hay as well. Ludwig yelped as his father's giant body nearly squashed him and Gilbert resumed his obnoxious laughter, exclaiming, "Join the family, pops!"

He fell face first into the scratchy hay, his arms a tangled mess underneath his body and legs sprawled. Still caught by surprised by the sudden assault made on him by his son, Alvar laid still in the hay for a second, before pushing his top half up, head twisting to cast a glare up at his eldest.

Now everyone knew it wasn't very hard to make Gilbert laugh, but his father's reaction was absolutely hilarious! Gilbert burst into another fit of laughter, and he thought he even heard a few giggles from his Ludwig who sat next to him. His father's cap had fallen off his head with impact, and now long strands of hay stuck out from his the neck of his coat. His face had held the best shocked expression Gilbert had ever seen on the man; however it was quickly replaced with one of his icy, soul stabbing glares.

"GILBERT!" Alvar rolled, hand lashing out and landing smack on the side of his son's head, knocking him over on his side. Even after being hit with such force (which he was quite used to), Gilbert couldn't help but smile and let a few pained chuckles escape his lips.

"Aw come on _Vati_!" Gilbert whined, "I just wanted you to play with us in the hay!"

Alvar snorted, getting to his knees and hoisting himself to his feet. He ran his hands over his attire, trying his best to get the hay off.

"As if I hadn't already had enough time with you on the ride here." He grumbled angrily. If it hadn't been for his injured leg, Gilbert would have never been able to pull the man down, and Gilbert obviously knew that, which made Alvar even more irritated.

He turned and this time put his hand out to his youngest son, who immediately took it and was himself pulled to his feet.

"Let's go inside Ludwig."

Gilbert sat up, beginning to hoist himself up and follow, but soon found his father's large boot on his chest, and fumbled back into the hay with a muffled "OOMPH".

"YOU, son, can sleep with the horses!" Alvar sneered, turning his back on his fallen child and pulling Ludwig along with him.

"You're so mean!" Ludwig heard his brother yell after them as they exited the dry stables and into the snow.

As they trudged towards the house together, Ludwig couldn't help but squeeze his father's hand in his; still not completely believing that he was really there. He stared up at his father, who in turn, glanced back down at him, blue eyes locking. He raised an eyebrow questioningly. "Do you want something son?"

Ludwig broke off their stare and glanced away, embarrassed to show just how happy he was that the man was with him. He began to shake his head to his father's inquiry, but stopped as he remembered something. He glanced back up at his father, but was still too embarrassed to make eye contact.

"Umm, _Vater_, do you think I could maybe…" he trailed off before finishing his request. His face growing red in embarrassment and he hoped that his father would think it was just the freezing December air stinging his cheeks.

Alvar raised an eyebrow. "Speak up Ludwig." he demanded in a strict but calm voice, a trait of his Ludwig was quite used to, yet it didn't help him feel any less embarrassed.

"Could I….could I perhaps ride on your shoulders again?" he finally managed to spit out, eyes shooting up to see his father's reaction.

Alvar stared down at Ludwig blankly. Then a small smile graced his lips.

"Is that all?" he snorted, trying his best to hold in any laughter.

Ludwig swallowed nervously, but nodded. Not being around the man very often made it very hard for Ludwig to ask for any sort of request, even one as childish as this. He hardly even made requests to begin with, other than requests that his brother shut up, or to not rub his chin on his face after forgetting to shave.

Suddenly two large hands gripped Ludwig from underneath his arms and hoisted him into the air, catching him off guard. A second later he found himself atop his father's large shoulders, just as he had shortly had his last reunion with the man a few months ago.

"Are you ready?" His father turned his head up to ask him. Ludwig nodded joyfully, steadying himself by grasping the back of his father's coat as he began to walk again.

Ludwig was so high up. It was exhilarating. The house looked so much closer, so much smaller now. He felt strong, just like his father and brother.

"_Vater_" Ludwig asked, resting his chin atop Alvar's head.

"Hmm?"

"Do you think I'll ever be as tall as you and Gilbert?"

Alvar was surprised by the odd question. Sure Ludwig was small for his age, but Alvar was just the same as a child. He was the smallest of all of the boys his age until puberty hit, and he shot out, leaving him far bigger than the others in both height and mass.

"Of course. You have my blood in you. I wouldn't doubt that you'd at least get as tall as Gilbert. Though most likely even taller, since that brat isn't even that tall."

"But I am still above average, mind you!" Gilbert's voice echoed behind them.

Ludwig turned his head to see his brother trudging through the snow after them, still finding and pulling hay from his jacket. Hay already had a knack for sticking in your clothes when you have only sat in it, but considering he had hidden his entire body IN the hay, meant that his clothing must be stuffed with the itchy grass.

He followed them with a rushed pace until he was walking at their side. Ludwig was thrilled to actually be looking down at his brother for once. Though it was still hard to imagine that he'd ever grow taller than Gilbert.

"I thought I ordered you to sleep with the horses." Alvar growled.

"Heh! We're in Austria. You have no power here!" Gilbert sneered, eliciting an irritated growl from Alvar. He almost started to regret the idea of spending the holiday together as a family. Thank goodness Ludwig hadn't turned out like his brother.

Upon reaching the porch steps to the house, Alvar quickly stuck his foot out which caused an unsuspecting Gilbert to stumbled over and once again found himself falling onto his back, this time his fall being cushioned by the foot of snow. But of course, to Alvar's amusement, that didn't stop him from soaking his clothes.

"I have more power than you'd think, boy!" Alvar sneered back, making his way up the porch and to the door, which opened upon their arrival, Roderich motioning them inside quickly to not let any of the warmth from the house. Gilbert sat up, silently cursing his father as he began to shiver slightly, the cold having seeped into his coat and to his skin. Though despite being slightly annoyed, Gilbert couldn't have been any happier as he watched his father duck into the house, making sure not to hit Ludwig's head on the door frame. A soft smile overtook his lips, catching the joy in his younger brother's eyes, just before disappearing from sight.

However, the smile transformed itself into a frown when a different figure emerged from the door, walking over the porch to stop at its edge. Violet eyes hidden behind a pair of glasses stared down at him crossly.

"You finally take the time off of killing my fellow countrymen to visit, and you're soaked and smell of horse manure."

"Nice to see you too, Roderich." Gilbert huffed, about to lift himself from his imprint in the snow, when a hand was suddenly placed out before him.

Gilbert stared at it for a minute, before glancing back up at his cousin, to find a smile now resting on his lips.

"Welcome back, idiot."

A short chuckle escaped Gilbert's lips as he took the hand and was pulled to his feet.  
"Yeah, well I'm only here to observe the enemy." he mocked, his usual cocky grin creeping over his face. "I am a busy man after all!"

Roderich rolled his eyes.

"Yeah, well while you are observing, please help yourself to a bath while here. Austrian's don't take kindly to smelly Prussians. Eliza is already preparing one for you."

Gilbert rubbed his palms together as his grin widened and eyebrows rose suggestively.

"Oh, so she'll be joining me? 'Bout time!"

And with that last comment, Gilbert once again found himself falling into the snow.

**Author Notes:**

**Holy crap! This is proof with how carried away I get! The reunion was just supposed to be the beginning of this wonderful, fluffy, Christmas Chapter, and yet it's already longer than most of my chapters! Got this done pretty quick though! ^_^**

**Sorry there isn't any history here. This scene will be continued with some traditional stuff in the next chapter! Giving you all a huge dose of fluff before the war really begins to take off!**

**Gil is just so fun to knock down. Everyone is doing it now and days! Especially with that loose mouth of his….his incident with Zieten may have helped him behave better professionally, but with his family, he'll never shut up.**

**REVIEWS ARE AWESOME! PLEASE GRACE ME WITH SOME!**


	7. Frohe Weihnachten

_21 Dezember, 1756 _

"How long are you going to be here?" Ludwig asked, glancing up at his brother who trudged through the snow besides him.

Gilbert gave a sad smile and wrapped his arms back behind his head. "Not for too long Luddy. It took long enough just to make it here. We're going to have to leave the day after Christmas."

"Oh." Ludwig muttered, shoulders slumping in disappointment. He knew he shouldn't be selfish; after all, he already got more than he had ever hoped for with the arrival of his father and brother, but he wanted to be with them as long as possible.

Alvar, who was in the lead of the group, glanced back behind his shoulder and over the axe that he carried over his shoulder to his youngest son.

"Are you keeping watch Ludwig? This tree is for you after all."

Ludwig popped his head up, just now remembering what they were doing in the middle of the snow covered forest that presided just a half kilometer away from Roderich's manor. He gaze went back to his surroundings, eyes scanning over every evergreen tree they passed. Most were far too large to be a proper Christmas tree. He glanced back to Eliza and Roderich who walked quietly behind him and Gilbert. Eliza modeled a large smile on her face, obviously enjoying the trek through the dense forest, while Roderich on the other hand, was bundled tightly in his winter clothing, his face hunched into his coat collar and breathing heavily. Eliza had already told him that Roddy didn't like the cold, nor was he one for long hikes. Ludwig began to wonder why Roderich had even insisted on coming along.

"Hey Liz! Why don't you walk with me up here! You need a real man to keep you warm!" Gilbert laughed, glancing back at the woman. Roderich shot Gilbert a glare and moved closer to Eliza.

Oh, so that was why.

"No thank you Gilbert. I'm fine where I'm at." Eliza shot back, her smile faltering just ever so slightly, but still remained.

Gilbert clicked his tongue, shrugging before turning back to look at Ludwig.

"See a tree you like?"

"_Nein_. They are all too big." Ludwig answered, a tad disappointed. He then he glanced back up at his brother, eyes boring into him. "But I could probably see better if I was higher up."

Gilbert's grin turned into a nervous one. "You mean you want-"he stuttered "Um, well, you're getting a bit too big Ludwig."

"But Vati carried my on _his_ shoulders." Ludwig shot back immediately.

Gilbert frowned. "Do I look like a mammoth, Luddy?"

Ludwig giggled, but quieted as he noticed his father in front of them shot them a glare from over his shoulder.

"Anyways," Gilbert added, completely ignoring his father, "This part of the forest is a tad older. We'll be coming up to a younger part soon. The trees there should be the right size."

A smile crept on Ludwig's face and he nodded.

Sure enough, not a few minutes later, Ludwig began to notice that the trees gradually became shorter.

"See! Check it out Ludwig!" Gilbert exclaimed, grabbing his younger brother's hand and pulling him forward toward the clearing of trees. "Aren't these trees awesome?"

Ludwig couldn't help but smile at his brother's excitement. Gilbert was acting more like a child than he was, even if he was probably just as excited. Apparently he hadn't thought he'd be able to spend Christmas with Ludwig ether, at least until Ol' Fritz proposed the idea that they spend time with him.

"Which one do you want?" Gilbert asked excitedly.

Ludwig glanced around, noting that several of them looked adequate enough, though, now that he had a choice, he wanted the best tree possible.

"I need to look!" Ludwig exclaimed, trotting through the snow toward a specific tree. He scanned it top to bottom before running towards another. Gilbert remained where he was, smiling widely as he watched his brother decide.

Elizaveta and Roderich approached him from behind, stopping next to him.

"It really is great to see him so happy!" Eliza exclaimed happily, her green eyes also locked onto the little bond. "He was really depressed with you gone."

"I'm glad I could come too." Gilbert replied, not taking his eyes off his brother, who was currently waving their father over to a chosen tree. "Though now I admit, it'll be hard to leave again."

"How are things with the war going?" Roderich muttered, a slight bit of worry slipping into his question.

"Just great." Gilbert ignored the tone he heard in his cousin's voice. "I've Already kicked your country's _arsch_ a few times."

Roderich was obviously irked by the comment, but remained silent.

"Everyone's obviously hibernating for the winter, but I can already tell, once they are all awake, things are really going to heat up." Gilbert finished, his tone becoming a bit too serious for Elizaveta's liking.

"But…but everything will be ok right?" She asked nervously, obviously just wanting to make herself feel better.

"Of course!" Gilbert's confidence still didn't calm her nerves, though she tried her best to hide her fears.

"Well you have better come back!" She scoffed, lacing her words with her own fake confidence. "Ludwig and I would kill you if you didn't."

Gilbert turned an eye toward his long time childhood friend. Though his face held on to his classic grin, his eyes were serious, glittering with confidence, yet, she thought she noticed a hint of doubt as well.

"You know I am too awesome to die." he answered simply, words betraying his eyes.

Roderich snorted at his comment. "Why can't you ever be serious for once? Idiot."

Gilbert's grin disappeared and replaced with a frown, getting both Elizaveta and Roderich to flinch in surprise. Before they could say anything, Gil wrapped his arms around the shoulders of each of them and pulled them close to him.

"Thanks for worrying about me guys. Everything will be fine. Just continue to make Ludwig happy."

His words were quiet and muffled, but they were heard, rendering both silent and he released his arms from their shoulders and began to trot away towards his family, who both hovered over a now fallen tree. Eliza watched as he immediately reverted back to his cheerful, carefree self, marveling and praising Ludwig for choosing such an "awesome" tree.

Eliza felt her stomach flip nervously. Even if Gilbert's sincere words were meant to comfort, they only managed to worry her more. Gilbert was familiar with war, and even a man with as much confidence as himself knew there were always possibilities. She felt a warm arm curl around her shoulders and pull her close.

Her mind couldn't help but linger on Gilbert's words. "We can't make Ludwig happy without Gilbert."

Roderich nuzzled his chin atop her head. "Don't worry. Gilbert's right. Everything will be just fine." he comforted.

Eliza nodded, sniffing back any tears that dared attempt to make an appearance, and putting on a brave face.

"We better go help carry that tree now, shouldn't we?"

Roderich nodded. "_Ja._ I'm sure everyone wants to get that set up back home."

And without another word, the two left their spot to join their dear friends and family.

o00o00o00o

Ludwig nodded approvingly as he scanned over the large fir tree which had been set up in Roderich's parlor. It had already been decorated with silver strands of tinsel and foil. Candles, secured safely in wooden hoops, laced around the tree, making the entire tree glisten in the light.

It had taken them all quite a while to bring carry the tree home, especially with Roderich demanding to stop to rest every 10 minutes. Finally, after a many eye rolls from his father, and irritated mumbling from his brother, Roderich had been forbidden to help carry, and ended up walking slowly besides Ludwig instead. It was sad to say that they had moved faster afterwards. (Especially since Elizaveta, who had also been one of the carriers.) Ludwig noted to never bring that up with his Austrian cousin. Even at his age, he knew that could be nothing but painful for a man to admit.

Once they had arrived home, his father and Gilbert worked on getting the tree to stand upright and get it steady to prevent it from ever falling, while Eliza cleaned up the mess of needles that littered the house afterwards. It wasn't until decorating that Ludwig was given permission to help. He had run around the tree, stringing tinsel around it until he could no longer reach. Gilbert finished lacing the rest of the tree while Ludwig hand him the strands. Afterwards, to his delight, he had been lifted to his father's shoulders once again, and was able to place the glass star on the top.

He wasn't allowed to set up the candles, so instead, he and Gilbert simply chatted and watched as their father and Eliza carefully lit the candles. It brought a smile to Ludwig's face as he remembered a Christmas many years ago when Gilbert had attempted to have a tree with the absence of their father. The tree had been mangled and somewhat bare after being dragged against the ground, and when Gilbert had tried to light the candles, he had instead accidentally light the tree instead. Thankfully they were able to put of the fire soon after it started, but they went that year with a mangled tree with a burnt side, and no candles. As memorable as that Christmas was, Ludwig much preferred this year instead. He preferred things ran smoothly and orderly.

"It's a nice _Chistbaum_, isn't it Luddy?"

He turned his icy blue eyes to look at his brother, who stared back at him, smiling.

"_Ja! _It's great! One of the best trees we've ever had."

Gilbert settled himself onto the couch next to his brother, placing an arm around his shoulders.

"You should have seen Mutter's trees." Gilbert added, smiling as he reminisced.

"She'd go all out, I'd tell you! You wouldn't ever mess with that woman around Christmas! She was far too sowing, knitting and baking! She'd knit snowflakes and stars which she would hang on the tree, along with a few ornaments she'd make using hardened bread."

His smile suddenly grew. "I remember getting a smack down from her when I attempted to eat them once."

"What else would she do?" Ludwig asked, curious to hear more about the mother who died before he could make any lasting memories with her.

"She's knit pouches with cookies in them, and paper bags with sugared almonds. She'd bake all sorts of sweets like marzipan and _Pfeffernüsse._ She attempted to make her own _Glücksgreife_ once, but she kinda failed, so she stuck to just buying those at the Christmas Market every year."

Ludwig nodded in understanding. Gilbert always tended to buy those types of treats for Ludwig around Christmas time, most likely trying to make up for their Mother's absence every year. Even on the Christmas's that _Vater_ came home; he too would bring home that sort of treat from the markets. His favorite had always been the animal shaped cookies, which Gilbert had told him represented the coming year, and they were 'taking a bite' of the New Year.

"Let's see… what else did Mutter do?" Gilbert mumbled to himself, eyebrows knitted in thought until his suddenly brightened in remembrance.

"Ah that's right! Every night before Christmas, she would read from the bible to me. She also would tell me different stories about St. Nicholas and some of the weird stuff he did."

"'Weird'? What nonsense are you referring to?"

Both brothers turned their gaze to see their cousin as the edge of the parlor room.

"St. Nicholas was a miracle worker, Gilbert. A man of God!" Roderich informed crossly.

Gilbert shrugged. "Meh, I just remember he was some old guy who gave gifts to kids after he brought them back to life, or something crazy like that."

"Aren't you supposed to be Catholic?" Roderich asked skeptically.

"Mutter was. Taught me some stuff, but forgot most after she died." Gilbert stated, leaning his back more comfortably against the coach cushion. "Religion's not really my thing. Never been _Vater's_ thing ether."

Roderich snorted in disgust. "Some example of a brother you are! Ludwig probably knows little to nothing about God!"

"He's had lessons from a tutor." Gilbert replied casually. "He knows the bible, and some tidbit about the different groups. Mutter was Catholic, _Vater _technically a Protestant. I figured he could choose whatever he chose."

Ludwig felt a bit awkward having the two argue about his teachings when he was right there.

Roderich didn't know what else to say to that. True, religion wasn't as big as it once was, especially since the Kingdom of Prussia didn't seem to have an official religion. If anything, it seemed like the army was their religion. It certainly seemed like Gilbert's at least.

Giving up on arguing any further, Roderich sighed and walked to the couch, sitting himself next to his younger cousin.

"So I assume that you've never learnt anything about _Krampus_ then?"

Ludwig stared at him with wide eyes, shaking his head no.

"Not surprising." Roderich scoffed, shooting a glare towards Gil, who ignored it entirely.

"Well of course Gilbert never told Ludwig about _Krampusz!" _a familiar female voice cut in as Eliza entered the room. "After all, Ludwig is such a kid, there is no need!"

Then a large mischievous grin grew on her face, eyes on Gilbert as she added, "Not to mention Gilbert is terrified of _Krampus_."

His eyes narrowed and lips curled irritably. "Am not and never was!" he snapped back. Eliza simply chuckled at his sudden defensiveness.

Ludwig was intrigued. "What is _Krampus_?"

"A tall, hairy, black beast with goat horns and hooves, and a long pointed tongue!" Eliza was first to answered, emphasizing the creature's description with her different hand gestures. "It appears around Christmas time and punishes naughty children! Your brother was always afraid of it when he was younger and would never go outside in the dark. He was practically glued to his mother's side, which probably caused her more trouble than good."

"Did not you dirty liar." Gilbert growled angrily, crossing his arms over his chest, yet he didn't make any eye contact with his friend.

"What does it do" Ludwig asked, curious just what it was that could ever frighten his older brother, whether he was younger or not.

"Stuffs you in a sack and brings you to his lair to eat you." Roderich answered bluntly. Ludwig shivered at the thought.

"I'm too awesome to be eaten." Gilbert mumbled.

"Too spoiled is more like it!" Eliza laughed, getting her another glare from her childhood friend.

She turned to Ludwig smiling in anticipation, dying to tell the child of another tasty detail.

"_Krampus_ is said to carry around old chains and bells with him. So Roderich and I found a chain and snuck outside of Gilbert's room, and pretended that _Krampus_ had finally found and come for him!"

"He scream was heard for miles." Roderich added casually, though the ends of his mouth were curled into an amused smile.

"Ah, so it was you two who was responsible for my lack of sleep that year?"

Everyone's eyes turned to the newest voice to enter the room, seeing the tall blond man at the edge of the room, his blue eyes scanning over the group seated on the parlor furniture.

"So it was true? You really did scream _bruder_?" Ludwig asked, eyes sweeping to look at his brother's red face.

"_Nein!"_

"_Ja." _Alvar corrected, joining the group in the room and sitting himself down on one of the Eldestein's gaudy armchair.

"The brat wouldn't sleep in his own bed for days. I'd have preferred you were stuffed into Krampus's sack and whisked away."

"Glad to know my _Vater_ loves me." Gilbert commented sarcastically, not liking where this conversation had gone at all.

Alvar snorted, crossing his legs and taking a sip of beer he had gotten from the kitchen. "Get over yourself runt."

Gilbert couldn't help but stand up, eyes glued to the drink he had just noticed in the man's hands.

"Where did you get that!?"

"You're too young to drink alcohol." Alvar replied coolly.

"Shut it and tell me where!?" Gilbert was almost in hysterics.

"Nope. You've been banned from alcohol ever since your last drunken incident."

"Oooh! Do tell!" Elizaveta piped up. Even Roderich's interests were perked slightly.

Gilbert frowned. He knew that there was no way to escape more stories from spreading. At this point, his best move was to leave and pretend they never happened….just as long as alcohol was involved. He cast a threatening glare towards his cousin. "Roderich. Alcohol. Where? Now!"

Roderich sighed.

"In the cellar. I hope the stuff kills you."

"Awesome!" was all he said before stomping from the room. Ludwig watched carefully as his elder brother's back disappeared from the room. He wasn't entirely sure of everything that just happened, but he couldn't help but feel happy. They really were all together. Everything was how it was once before, and how it always should be. His brother bragging how awesome he is, getting into arguments and fist fights with Elizaveta, random threats between him and Roderich, drinking beer, and their father _actually_ here. A smile slid onto Ludwig's face. He didn't think this Christmas holiday could get any better.

However, the upcoming knowledge of what was to come still stabbed into his thoughts, tainting them with worry and anxiously. Once Christmas was gone, so would his family. His family would all disappear with the departing season, leaving him once again alone. Sure Elizaveta and Roderich would still be here for him, but it wasn't the same. They were different without Gilbert, and even without _Vati_.

He was too deep in thought to notice the conversation being exchanged between the remaining adults. His eyes glanced back up to the top of the _Christbaum, _taking in the details of the star. God. Christmas was about God. The Bible. About Miracles. About Prayer.

Ludwig closed his eyes, taking in a deep breath and listening to the comforting voices in the air around him.

_God. If you really do exist. Please don't take my family from me._

o00o00o00o

_23 Dezember, 1756_

Gilbert crept quietly behind a pine tree, using its long, needled branches as cover as he caught his breath. Sweat beaded his forehead which he wiped off with his coat sleeve. His mind reeled as he ran through any possible tactics, while still trying to keep his breathing quiet. He had made great ground to begin with, but as time went by, he had been pushed back. He was slowly being pushed into a corner, and was now surrounded at all sides. His reinforcements had deflected to the enemy side as well.

He released a tired sigh. Things were not looking good for him. All he could do now was use the trees to his advantage. They provided enough cover after all. His eyes glanced down to the white snow below him. _Schieße! _In his haste to find cover he had forgotten to cover his tracks! He was no longer safe!

Gilbert made a move away from the tree, but was too late, as only moments later, a fury of snowballs rained down upon him. He broke into a sprint and dived head first into a thrush of snow covered bushes. From there he crawled on his belly out from the bushes and into the cover of the thickly packed trees.

"Where'd he go?" He heard the echo of the young voice.

"He escaped! Looks like he headed off in that direction." This voice clearly belonged to a woman. Though Gilbert would have to say she was the most unfeminine woman he had ever met.

"Shoot! He took off beneath the trees! Keep your eyes weary Ludwig! He could be anywhere!"

He heard snow cracking under the weight of two people as they walked about the trees, searching for him.

Gilbert proceeded by crawling under a few more trees, legs smoothing out as much snow as he could as to confuse to create false trails, and then back tracking.

However, at the sound of crunching snow, he stopped, lying as flatly against the snow as he could, his cheeks stinging at the touch of the cold powder. His eyes watched carefully as he could see the feet nearing his hiding spot. They were smaller and better yet, they were the only pair he saw. He was alone.

A smirk grew on his lips as he planned his attack. He'd finally get his revenge on that traitor. Those morons should have known better than to split up when HE was their enemy. He waited silently as the feet neared, stopping just a few feet from where he lay. Seeing this as his chance, Gilbert quietly slid forward. The snow cracked under him as moved, but it was too late for his prey. Before the lad could even react to the slight noise, a pair of large arms reached out, grabbing his small legs and pulling him to the ground.

Ludwig let out a small cry before he found his entire body encased in his brother's arms, wrapping tightly against his chest and pinning his arms to his side. His mouth opened to call out for Elizaveta, but was muffled as a hand full of snow was shoved in his face.

"This is what you get traitor! You should have thought twice about deflecting to the enemy side and making ME your enemy!"

Ludwig flailed about, trying anything to get out of his brother's grasp and away from the cold snow being forced on his skin.

"_Neiiiiin_! _Bruder_! Let me go!"

"Never!"

With another face full of snow, Ludwig switched to his last resort, using his free legs and kicking his brother in the stomach.

"Ooof!"

The man obviously wasn't suspecting any brute force from him, and immediately released his hold on him, grabbing his stomach instead. Ludwig rolled from away from his grasp and to his stomach, quickly pushing himself off the ground and taking off at a sprint.

"Well played." Gilbert coughed back, getting to his feet himself and chasing after his escapee.

Ludwig ran as fast as he could until he could run no more. The frigid air was freezing his lungs and the heavy snow slowed his movements. He soon found himself behind a large boulder, resting his back against its surface as he regained his breath.

He kept his ears keen on any sounds, listening for his pursuer who couldn't be far behind him. He expected to hear those heavy, following footsteps at any moment. Then suddenly, he heard a small tweet. Ludwig turned his head slightly in the direction of the sound, not sure if he had heard correctly. It wasn't completely uncommon to hear birds in the winter, however, had seemed a lot closer than from inside a nearby tree.

Another tweet and Ludwig knew it was nearby. Not only was it close, but it was below him. He glanced down at the snow beneath him and slowly inched around the giant rock. It didn't take long for him to notice the creature, as its bright yellow feathers making it stand out from the white surroundings.

It sat at the edge of the stone which had just enough covering from the snow. Ludwig stepped toward it slowly, noticing that it did not bother to fly away or even move. It simply watched him carefully with its beady black eyes.

He bent over the bird, slowly reaching a hand out and carefully brushing a finger against its yellow feathers. His eyes lit up with excitement. Never before had he ever been able to touch a wild bird before! However, that fact also caused him to fill with worry for the small creature.

"What do you have there?"

Ludwig's heart leapt as he turned to see his brother looming over him. He had been so distracted by the bird that he had forgotten to listen for his brother. However, it appeared that Gilbert had also taken a break from the game in order to see what had gotten his attention. Relief washed over Ludwig as his stepped slightly to the side, and pointing to the small bird before him.

"I think its hurt_, Bruder_."

Gilbert glanced down at the bird and leaned toward it, a finger held out to it. It didn't react other than staring.

"Poor thing has already resigned itself." Gilbert muttered, before reaching both hands out and scooping it carefully off the ground.

He stood up and nodded in the direction towards the house. "Come on Luddy, let's see if we can do anything for it."

A small smile grew on his face, as he too got up to follow after his brother. He desperately wanted to help the poor thing, yet he didn't want to get his hopes up, knowing that it could still die even with their help.

"Cover me, would ya?" Gil said over his shoulder. "Eliza is still out here! Don't want her ambushing us while we have this little guy with us."

Ludwig nodded, quickening his pace so he was in front of the other.

"You could always protect it with your body." Ludwig pointed out, getting his brother to smirk. "Nah, it's better if I just use a traitor like you as a shield."

Ludwig couldn't help but giggle. "I had no choice _Bruder_! Eliza had me cornered and would have killed me if I didn't join her!"

"No excuses Luddy! First rule in war: No excuse is acceptable."

Ludwig puffed his cheeks. War didn't follow the rules if Elizaveta was involved. In fact, it didn't when Gilbert was ether! Though he didn't dare argue these explanations, as Gilbert would have surely countered it back. He had always been the master at excuses after all. (Except when _Vati_ was involved. He would still make the excuse, but that didn't mean it worked.)

It didn't take the two long to reach the house, and thankfully, without running into Eliza. Gilbert immediately stomped into the kitchen, placing a few hand towels onto it before placing the bird on top.

Ludwig sat himself on the table beside his brother, who was now gently patting the bird dry with the edge of one of the towels.

"It looks like one of its wings is busted." Gilbert noted with a small but weary smile. His eyes glanced over, meeting with Ludwig's curious blue.

"That means we can try to heal it, and he'll be ok. However, he would need to be cared for until he is healed up enough to be released outside again. Are you willing to take in this responsibility?"

Ludwig immediately nodded. If he didn't care for the bird, it would die, and Gilbert obviously couldn't since he'd be leaving soon.

The weariness in Gilbert's smile faded into a true smile. Though he never openly said anything, Ludwig knew his brother had always loved birds. Black Eagles being his definite favorite of course, but he liked smaller birds as well.

"Alright, let's fix this little guy up." Gilbert exclaimed happily. "By the way, do have a name for him Luddy? Even if his wing heals early enough, you won't be able to release him until spring, otherwise he may still freeze to death. So you're going to have to call him something until then."

Ludwig thought to himself for a moment. Truthfully, he had plenty of names that he liked, but nothing for a bird. All the names he liked he had been planned dog names, if he ever got one that is. His eyebrows knitted as he pondered through any name for a small bird such as this, though he couldn't come up with one he liked.

"I don't know." He muttered sadly. "What would you name him Gilbert?"

Gilbert looked a bit surprised at suddenly being put on a spot. He glanced down at the bird, lips pursed as he thought. Finally his eyes brightened and he grinned triumphantly.

"I'd call him 'Gilbird'!"

The bird tweeted.

Ludwig stared back at his brother with a blank face.

"That's a stupid name, _Bruder_." he stated bluntly, causing Gilbert's grin to fall.

"Well you asked!" He huffed back, standing up from his chair. "Stay here while I get something. And come up with a name for him soon."

Ludwig watched as his brother disappeared from the room, heading towards the second floor from the sound of his steps. Once he was gone, Ludwig turned his gaze back to the bird. As usual, it stared at him with its small black eyes, yet he swore that it didn't look as sad as it had when he first found him. It puffed its feathers up and relaxed its head, before letting out another small tweet. Ludwig brushed a finger gently on the base of its head.

It wasn't long before Gilbert returned into the room, the sound of thing, clanging metal announcing his arrival. Ludwig turned to see his brother carrying a large dust covered bird cage in one hand, and a few bandages in the other. Ludwig's eyes widened.

"Where did you get that?"

Gilbert smiled, holding up the large cage. "This? Found it hidden in the attic. Roderich used to keep pigeons when we were younger. We actually had them trained as carrier pigeons, and would use them to send secret messages between Eliza, him and I."

Then setting the cage down, he reached out towards the bird. "Watch carefully how I do this Luddy. Thanks to those stupid pigeons, I'm not new to patching up bird wings."

Reaching slowly he grabbed the injured wing, earning a wince and a peck from the

Injured bird, but Gilbert ignored it. Grabbing the bandage, he wrapped it carefully over the wing, pinning it to its side to prevent any movement, and around the bird's torso. He then lifted the uninjured wing in order to avoid wrapping it as well. Once the bandage was secure, Gilbert snorted proudly.

"Done like a pro!"

Ludwig smiled.

We'll keep him in this cage while we keep him. After about a week, you're going to need take that bandage off, see if he can move it a little. Be wary of touching it though. Don't want to mess up the bone alignment. "

"What about food?" Ludwig asked.

"I saw a bag of bird seed in the attic as well. He's a species that usually eats seeds anyways, so he'll be fine with that."

Gilbert stood up and once again disappeared upstairs, to grab the bird seed, Ludwig assumed.

While he was gone, Ludwig used a rag to dust off the old cage before gently scooping up the bird and placing it inside. Once settled inside, the bird stood up and began to hop about, eventually perching itself on a long wooden bar in the center, tweeting happily.

Ludwig sighed in relief. He felt that it would definitely be alright now. He reached his finger in through the cage bars in order to once again touch the bird's soft golden feathers.

"Don't worry Gilbird. You're in good hands now. _Bruder_ and I will take good care of you."

o00o00o00o

_24 Dezember 1756_

The day had ended with much excitement, as did all the days this past week had. Roderich was exhausted. As thrilled as he was having his family visit for the holidays, they had quickly worn him out. Concerning his cousin Gilbert, that wasn't surprising at all. However, even though _Onkel_ Alvar was the complete opposite of his son, he was definitely intimidating and slightly demanding. Even though he rarely spoke his demands, his hard expressions said enough.

Elizaveta technically had time off. She would usually spend the Christmas season with her family back in Hungary, but she had decided to stay when they had deemed Ludwig would be living with them. But it was only fair that she now didn't have any of her usual maid responsibilities, leaving Roderich to do most of the daily chores. Luckily, Eliza had enough compassion on the man to still provide assistance. (enough assistance that she still did most of the work, though Roderich didn't notice.)

This particular day hadn't been any better for Roderich. It had been fun, don't get him wrong, but it had been exhausting. He had spent a good portion of the day baking, while snapping at a certain obnoxious cousin of his, who had decided to run amok in his house with Ludwig clinging to his back, playing a variety of strange games. Several times he also noticed the small yellow bird the two had found the day before, roosting on Gilbert's head. He didn't know how the bird had gotten there, considering its temporary inability to fly, nor did Roderich understand how Gilbert didn't even seem to notice it.

Sometime during the early afternoon, Gilbert had managed to tick off his father in some unknown matter, and it had actually resulted in a sort of wrestling match between the two. Gilbert had treated it as a game, while, according to what Roderich witnessed, _Onkel_ had appeared to have been completely serious. It made Roderich smile, remembering how easily his idiot cousin was pinned by his father. War injury or not, you did not mess with that man.

Toward the latter part of the afternoon, Roderich had taken the entire group out to the Christmas Market hosted in a small town just a few kilometers out. This market was nothing compared to the one hosted in Vienna which he usually attended, but for his Prussian family, this one had been plenty good enough. He couldn't help but take delighted in Ludwig's excitement as he had explored the different booths with his brother and father. It had been the plan all along to take Ludwig to the Christmas Market on the 24th, but it would have never had compared as today with only him and Elizaveta to accompany the boy.

Roderich yawned tiredly as he stretched his arms upwards and cranked his back. He was in much need for a nights rest after today's shenanigans. He removed his glasses and changed out of his winter clothing and into a night shirt and a pair of silk trousers. Once he was finished dressing, he blew out the candle sitting on his night stand, and crawled into his bed, curling himself comfortably under the blankets.

It didn't take long for his eye lids to grow heavy as sleep over took him, numbing all his senses as he slipped into calming dreams. However, it was never meant for him to have any calming dreams, as it wasn't long before a dark figure crept into his dark room. Feet treaded the floor lightly and cautiously towards the sleeping figure. Looming over Roderich, the figure reached his hand out, quickly cupping over his mouth.

Roderich's eyes flew open with the sudden contact. He abruptly sat up from the blankets, shocking his assailant, but simply wrapped his hand tighter around his mouth to prevent him from making any noise. Roderich flailed his arms towards the dark man, who proceeded by holding his arms down and hissing at him to be quiet. But Roderich wouldn't relent. He began to flail more vigorously, using his legs to kick the man in his stomach, causing him to release his grip on him.

"What are you-!" Roderich began to scream, but was quickly cut off when the man slammed his elbow into his head, causing Roderich to slip back into the darkness, falling back onto his bed unconscious.

"Curse you, stupid-!" Gilbert hissed quietly, arms wrapped around his injured stomach. "I freaking told you to be quiet!"

o00o00o00o

"There are plenty of normal ways to wake a man up, idiot!" Roderich hissed, wincing slightly as his head pounded in pain. His fingers tapped irritably against the kitchen table.

"I didn't want you to wake Ludwig up! I didn't expect you to freak out like a headless chicken!" Gilbert snapped back. "Knocking you out was the only way to prevent you from waking up the whole house, which would ultimately ruin the surprise for Ludwig and would leave _Vater_ in the worst mood imaginable."

Roderich glared daggers into Gilbert. "You psychotic, obnoxious, maniac." he muttered under his breath angrily.

Gilbert sighed, lowering his head and shaking it.

"Just calm down, fancy pants. You can insult me all you want later. As for now, it's time for Christmas preparations."

"Like what? I already prepared plenty of sweets, and as for Christmas dinner, we can at least wait till tomorrow to make it!"

"First off, it's Christmas eve. I had Luddy leave his shoes outside his door for St. Nicholas, telling him that he also visits on Christmas eve, seeing as SOMEONE forgot to do it on St. Nicholas Day on the 6th! And second, yes, while we have plenty of sweets, they are all Austrian!" Gilbert pointed out, wrinkling his nose as he spoke the last word.

"We need some proper _Prussian _sweets! And you, sir, are going to help me!

It was hard for Roderich to argue. While it was unreasonable to be helping Gilbert bake simply because they needed to have a "Prussian" Christmas, it was true that Roderich had completely spaced the celebration of St. Nicholas Day. His strict catholic parents would be disappointed in him. Though it was completely understandable to forget! He never had a child to worry about before who would celebrate the day.

He let out a deep, resigned sigh. He might as well forget about getting any sleep tonight.

o00o00o00o

_25 Dezember, 1756_

As the day came to an end, Ludwig deemed it quite possibly the best day of his life. As he had awoken that morning, he had opened his bedroom door to find that his shoes, which he had been instructed to leave there the night before, were filled with nicely wrapped packages of nuts, peppermint candies and sugar sticks in the shape of what Gilbert called a 'shepherd's crook'. He even found a few coins at the toe of each shoe, just enough for him to buy something special for himself.

He was elated. Immediately barging into his brother's room and tackling his sleeping body on the bed, exclaiming his newest discoveries. Gilbert seemed exhausted as he put all his efforts into staying awake to listen to his little brother ramble happily. Afterwards, Gilbert had sent him downstairs to have breakfast, while he attempted to sleep a bit longer. Ludwig had then enjoyed a delicious breakfast of freshly baked bread and jam with Elizaveta and his father. Roderich was nowhere to be seen, as Eliza had mentioned he too had been sleeping in.

Thankfully Gilbert had gotten up a few hours later, providing Ludwig with all the entertainment that he needed. They played games, ate cookies, read a few verses from the bible on Ludwig's request, and ran amok outside. They even got _Vati_ to join them in a few of their games and adventures.

It wasn't until that afternoon when Roderich finally made his appearance. He and Eliza immediately setting off to cook that evening's Christmas feast.

This year's feast had been better than ever! Mostly because the Beilschmidt's weren't particularly the best cooks, and usually stuck to simplicity. However, Roderich and Elizaveta went all out! The table had been filled with all sorts of meats, breads, tarts, and potatoes. And of course, to Gilbert's and _Vater's _delight, plenty of German beer.

Ludwig had eaten until his stomach felt like it would burst. He slumped down on his chair, holding his stomach, not wanting to move. Gilbert had laughed at his gesture, saying he needed to eat more if he ever wanted to be as tall and "buff" as he was. _Vati_ had rolled his eyes. Ludwig knew better though and stayed away from eating any more for that time being.

But of course, a few hours later and Ludwig was ready for more! Gilbert had excitedly unveiled his creation of several plates of _Glücksgreife. _Ludwig had marveled, seeing how each cookie had a different shape, each with a different meaning I which they would use in an _Orakelspie_l. He was told it was a Prussian New Year's tradition, but they would have to celebrate slightly early given their circumstances.

The cookies had all been placed under different trays as each member of the group took turns reaching under and grabbing a different cookie which would predict their future for this upcoming year. Ludwig had received one in the shape of a loaf of bread. Gilbert whooped and told him he would have a good year. Though he didn't understand why Roderich had turned red when he had grabbed a ring shaped cookie. He had then barked at Gilbert for even making such a cookie, but Gilbert only grinned and laughed loudly.

So according to Ludwig, this Christmas had been perfect. It was late, and Ludwig currently sat on his brother's bed, already dressed in his night clothes. He had ignored this fact the entire day, but now that the day had ended, Ludwig couldn't help but let it taint his thoughts once again that this day together had been their last. At least for a long time it will be.

Ludwig watched as his brother entered the room, slightly swaying from his alcohol consumption from that night, though thankfully he at least didn't get himself wasted. Gilbert glanced at his younger brother, sitting patiently atop his bed.

"Whoa, Luddy! What are you doing here? Shouldn't you be in your own bed?"

Ludwig shook his head. "No _Bruder_. I'm staying here tonight."

A curled smile wrapped around Gilbert's lips. "A little demanding, aren't ya?" he laughed, "I swear, you act more grown up than I am sometimes."

Ludwig knew that was true, but kept his mouth closed.

Gilbert let out a chuckle and fell backwards onto the bed, head landing just below Ludwig.

"Fine by me. I was wanting a little company anyways." Gilbert grinned.

Ludwig couldn't help but smile slightly with Gilbert's permission to stay. He crawled to the head of the bed and crept into the covers. Gilbert smiled and flopped onto his stomach, crawling into the space next to his brother but not yet getting into the covers himself. He ran a hand gently though his brother's blond locks, now being surprisingly silent.

Ludwig too remained silent, as he simply enjoyed just being close to his elder brother. The gentle feeling of his brother's hand massaging his scalp made his eye lids feel heavy, as weariness from the day finally hit him.

"Did you have a good Christmas, Ludwig?" Gilbert asked softly.

Ludwig turned so that he was facing his brother and nodded.

Gilbert smiled warmly. "_Gut._ I had a great Christmas too." There was a slight pause before Gilbert asked, "So what was your favorite present this year? I know you got several amazing things from St. Nicholas."

Ludwig was silent for a moment, his cheeks heating up in embarrassment. There was no way he could admit that his brother had been his favorite gift. After all, _Vater _did instruct him not to say things that may inflate his ego.

Finally Ludwig just shrugged, muttering, "Everything."

Gilbert let out a warm laugh, wrapping his arms around the small boy and squeezing gently. He buried his face into the boy's hair and breathed in his scent. "I'm glad."

The two brothers remained like this for several minutes. Even after Gilbert noticed lids covering those beautiful blue eyes, and felt him breathing deeply in sleep, he did not move. He simply took it all in. He had already been blessed to have gained this time to be with Ludwig, but he knew he would not be so lucky later. Winter had slowed the war, but it was still happening. As soon as the harsh winter snows subside, the war will rush like water flowing from an open dam.

He didn't know how long this war would be. At shortest, it would be only a few years but even a few years from Ludwig would be painful. He worried about how much of his brother's life he would miss. He was at least thankful for the kid's letters. His letters had seemed more like diary entries than a letter, giving specific details of each day Ludwig spent without him.

Gilbert sighed, not sure how to act with such conflicting feelings. He loved the feeling of battle, of command. Watching as the enemy fell under his ranks. He was made for battle, he could feel it. Even since he was a child, he knew what he wanted to be, what he wanted to become. But this one, small child, almost made him wish he was something else.

Finally deciding it was time for bed; Gilbert carefully retracted his arms and sat up from the bed. He blew out most of the candles, blanketing the room in a shroud of darkness. He left only one lit, which created harsh shadows along the walls. Setting the candle light on top of one of the room's wooden dressers, Gilbert removed his shirt and quietly rumbled through the drawers for his night clothes. He found his pants first and slipped those on, before retrieving an over shirt.

With the lost warmth and weight on the bed, Ludwig's eyes opened slowly and glanced around, looking for his missing warmth. He sat up, rubbing his eyes and noticing the figure across the room, illuminated by a single lit candle.

He was still a bit drowsy, ready to lay back down to sleep, when his eyes caught on to his brother's bare back. Drowsiness faded as it was replaced by horror, eyes scanning over the multiple scars which laced his back.

"_Bruder_! What happened?" he couldn't help but yell.

Gilbert was just about to slip the shirt over his shoulders when Ludwig's small voice cut the silence, causing him to freeze.

He glanced over his shoulder to see his younger brother, sitting up and staring at him with worried blue eyes. He then glanced towards his back, knowing of the several scars that laced his back from years of fencing and military training which his brother was looking at. He had a few on his chest as well which Ludwig couldn't see.

"It's just a part of life Ludwig." Gilbert answered, throwing the shirt over him.

Ludwig remained silent for a moment, before shaking his head. "Nein! I don't have any scars, _Bruder_! Why do you have so many? Is it the war? Are they hurting you? If so, I don't want you to go back!"

Gilbert sighed, shaking his head. This was a conversation he had purposely avoided. He was so close to avoiding it all together but it just _had_ to come up.

"They are all from multiple sources Ludwig. Some of them I've had before you were even born." Gilbert explained, slipping himself back on the bed next to Ludwig.

When Ludwig didn't respond, Gilbert lifted his shirt and twisted his back around to show his brother.

"This one," Gilbert began, motioning to a faded scar on his lower back, "I got when I fell from a tree and was stabbed by a broken branch."

Ludwig winced.

Now Gilbert was motioning to the back of his shoulder. "This one _Vati_ slashed me once while we were sparing together. Only time he ever won."

Then twisting forward and pointing to one along his collar bone.

"This one I got in a battle. Not in this recent war, but a small battle when I was still a low ranked lieutenant. I was slashed by the side of a bayonet."

Ludwig gulped nervously as he stared at this scar, knowing that he could get much more in this current war.

"You can't go back. You'll get more." he muttered, voicing he thoughts.

Gilbert thought as much. He lowered his shirt and scooted closer to Ludwig, placing him in a one armed hug.

"I don't mind. I like my scars."

Ludwig was a bit taken aback by this comment. Gilbert couldn't help but chuckle.

"Yeah I have plenty of scars, but each one is completely different. I have a different story to tell for each. They show how awesome I am and how much I've done in my life! So I am actually hoping for another scar or two that I can show off and tell you about."

Ludwig remained silent, fingers curling around the blanket's edges.

"Ludwig?"

"You better not try to get anymore scars, _Bruder_. I don't want you to get hurt."

Gilbert smiled, tightening his hug. "That's the Ludwig I know! Always looking out for me! Don't you worry, I'll be awesome!"

Ludwig simply stared at the bed covers before lying himself back down in bed.

"Will I see you tomorrow?" He asked sadly.

"Perhaps." Gilbert shrugged. "_Vater_ and I will be leaving rather early tomorrow morning. You'll probably still be asleep."

Ludwig felt drowsiness once again overtaking his senses as his brother talked.

"Make sure to wake me before you leave."

"Got it."

"And don't leave without saying bye to Eliza and Roddy."

"I'll try."

His eyes were nearly closed as he muttered the last sentence.

"Don't forget about Gilbird…"

Gilbert bent down and placed a kiss on Ludwig's forehead.

"Wouldn't dream on it kiddo."

Ludwig made an approving grunt before he completely fell into sleep, his breaths once again becoming deep and even.

"_Schlaf, mein kleiner Bruder." _Gilbert whispered, before turning his head and blowing out the candle left on the night stand.

_ "Frohe Weihnachten."_

**Merry Christmas everyone! Sorry this took me longer than expected. I was busy with finals, and then moving back home for the winter.**

**This chapter was kinda all over the place. But there were so many different scenes I wanted to write. Hope you all like it. (posted without my beta going over it cause she was busy and I wanted it done by Christmas, so I hope there aren't any big mistake in this)**

**Sorry I keep adding more words that aren't very self-explanatory. That's what happens when you start to study the language.**

**Christbaum: Christmas Tree**

**Pfeffernüsse : pepper nut cookies**

**Glücksgreife: Lit: "lucky grabs"; type of cookie or biscuit**

**Krampusz : Hungarian for 'Krampus'**

**Orakelspiel: fortune telling game**

**Schlaf: Sleep**

**Frohe Weihnachten: Merry Christmas**

**History:**

**I tried my best to research German/Prussian Christmas's in the mid 18****th**** century, and it was a PAIN! Anyways, from what I found:**

**Christmas Trees originally German. Martin Luther was thought to be the one who added candles to the tree. The trees were actually introduced to America a century later by the Dutch and German immigrants.**

**Christmas Markets are apparently pretty old, existing in Austria and the German States long before the 18****th**** Century.**

**Most people within the German States were Protestant, while there were still plenty of Catholics as well. Austria was strictly Roman Catholic. As for Prussia, it didn't have an official religion that I could find. Frederick II was a Calvinist (though it's believed he was only to spite his father, who didn't believe he was one of the chosen elect that the Calvinists believed in) But Frederick was very accepting to other religious people within Prussia as long as they didn't cause any problems.**

**The Glücksgreife apparently was a Prussian tradition, according to my source. Couldn't find too many details on it but I shared what I knew.**

**There was more but that's all I feel needs a little explanation.**

**Anyways, hope you enjoyed the Brother fluff and we'll be returning to the war in this next chapter!**

**Do you know what I would like for Christmas? Some reviews please! That would be awesome!**


	8. Jelito is Prague's Specialty

_4 Mai, 1757_

Gilbert raised his arms and arched his back, hearing a loud pop as he did so. He sighed and began rubbing his stiff neck with his gloved hand. Several days on top of a horse, eyes surveying and mind constantly alert, really took a toll on his body. But alas, marching your men through mountain trails for days on end was part of the life he had chosen. It wasn't his favorite part, but it was always necessary.

He glanced around his surroundings, eyes scanning over the rocky trails still ahead of them. The trails were partially covered by dense foliage. Thank goodness these mountains were used for mining; otherwise there wouldn't be such wide, clear trails that were large enough to march an army through (or a fourth of an army as it was).

During the winter, King Frederick had spent a good deal of time planning further defenses of their territory, as well as their next plan of attack. They were now on their way to Bohemia. The main army had been separated into four divisions to scale the Ore Mountains that separated their claimed territories of Saxony and Silesia from Bohemia.

Dividing the army was a risky move; however, the mountains were easy to travel through while still providing enough coverage to hide their movements from their enemies. Besides, when they reached the converging point in a few days, Gilbert was confident that they would be able to merge undisturbed.

"Beilschmidt."

Gilbert turned to see a man atop a brown steed, steadily trotting towards him. He wore the dark blue Prussian uniform, clad with a white sash and a few medals across his chest. Strapped at his waist was his decorated saber, and a special baton, which (if not obvious by his uniform) signified the rank of a Field Marshal. Gilbert guessed he was in his seventies." If you go with this form, the next two sentences should be combined: "His round, soft face was framed by a curled, powered wig and topped by a black hat. Despite the kindness of his face, his eyes glittered with fierce intelligence

"Field Marshal Schwerin." Gilbert responded, politely nodding his head as the man approached.

Once Gilbert had returned from his short Christmas trip in Austria, he and his regiment had been put under the command of this man, apparently with the recommendation of Frederick.

Schwerin was nearly as famous as King Frederick himself, having served among the Prussian military since before the King's ascension. He had served as a Field Marshal ever since the beginning of the Silesian wars and had soon retired after the second Silesian War ended in 1745. However, he must have not cared much for the carefree life of retirement, because as soon as war started up again, he was once again leaping to join in on the war front.

Gilbert had been honored to serve alongside a man who happened to be one of the King's best leaders, advisors, and even friends. He had only been with the man for 5 months, and he had already learned so much from him. If anyone said there was an age limit to serve in battle, they would be shut up in a second by Schwerin.

"We are to stand by here for now." Schwerin began. "We've received a messenger from Bevern's force. They should be joining us here in a few hours."

Gilbert couldn't help but grin at the news. Marshal von Bevern's forces had entered Bohemia earlier, running into an Austrian corps near the town of Reichenberg, and had destroyed them. It had been obvious that these Austrians were inexperienced against von Bevern's leadership.

Schwerin continued.

"Once merging here, we are to march another day and converge with Frederick's and Prince Moritz's corps near Prague.."

Gilbert nodded.

"Have the scouts returned yet?" he asked.

"Yes. Apparently the Austrians have retreated towards Prague, and are concentrating their armies to the east. Anyways, these are details to discuss with the king. For now, get your men ready to camp and get some lookouts situated.

Gilbert nodded again and gave a polite solute. "I'm on it."

He turned on his horse and began towards his where his regiment was stationed.

o00o00o00o

_6 Mai, 1757 (2 days later) _

It was still dark out. Too early for the sun to rise, and yet, there the entire Prussian army waited, a total of some 115,000 men. Normally, even with his military training, he would still be a tad drowsy with how early it was, but not today. Today was the day they finally would strike.

Just as Schwerin had said before, Bervern's force had met up and merged with theirs. After that they had made it into Bohemia and joined up with the remaining half of the army, just as the king had planned. Everything had gone perfectly. With how things were, Bohemia's capital was pretty much already in the Prussian's grasp. He doubted it would take long to take Prague. The only thing standing in their way now was the Austrian army just east of the city.

King Frederick had already sent Field Marshal Keith and his force of 30,000 to the west in order to cut off any possible retreat from the Austrians. Once their presence had been detected by the Austrians, they had arranged their forces, facing towards the north and east. Frederick had initially ordered an immediate assault; however, with some counsel from Schwerin, a reconnaissance had been made to scope around the right flank of the Austrian army.

Gilbert was antsy. He couldn't wait for a good fight. Sure the reconnaissance was a smart choice to make in order to learn more about their enemy's position, but a part of him wished the immediate assault had been ordered. He hadn't seen blood since last October during their first encounter with Austrian forces at Lobositz.

The sun had begun to rise by the time Gilbert noticed the men returning from their mission. His heart began to pound excitedly and he couldn't contain the grin sliding over his lips. He watched as Frederick and a few of his Field Marshals gathered together, listening to the report. Once the report was through, the men departed back among their ranks, as their leaders conversed with one another. After a few minutes, a plan was apparently agreed upon, and each man departed to their own ranks.

Gilbert perked up as he noticed Schwerin riding towards him, anxious to hear the plan.

"There's a sloping meadow towards the Austrian right flank. If we charge from there, we'll have a good shot at the rear. Your regiment along with five other infantry regiments will be beginning the charge. Winterfeldt's infantry will be leading"

A satisfied grin swept over his face.

"Get your men in position. We're about to march."

"Sir!" Gilbert replied.

Schwerin smiled as well, obviously noticing Gilbert's enthusiasm. He reached a hand out and patted Gil's shoulder.

"I like your spirit! Good luck out there lad. I'll be in the charging force as well."

"_Danke_ sir! It'll be a pleasure fighting beside you."

With those last words, Schwerin gave him another nod before withdrawing his hand and leading his steed away to inform the rest of the regiments of their plan of attack.

Gilbert watched as the Marshal's horse disappeared among the crowd. Gilbert would have to admit that Schwerin was probably the second coolest old man of the army. First was Fritz of course, even if the two were some 30 years apart, age wise.

Gilbert turned and began barking out to his Majors and Captains. Another game was about to begin. All the pieces had to be ready.

o00o00o00o

Roughly three hours. Three hours was how long it took for the Austrians to notice the navy blue lining the horizon from their right flank. From their positions, it was a straight shot to the Austrian forces. All that was left for them was to march their infantry into the empty stretch of meadow before them, and then up the steady slope which the Austrians had their forces lined up on.

Gilbert rode on his horse just in front of his regiment, eyes scanning over both the Austrians, and his allies carefully, waiting for the first sign of movement. The Austrians appeared to be adjusting their position, not being prepared for an assault on their right flank. However, other than turning their infantry and creating more lines, they didn't move from their position down the slope. Looks like the first attack belonged to the Prussians.

Not a moment later, a large column of soldiers broke off from the front of the Prussian's right flank, marching steadily towards the enemy with their rifles already up and ready to fire on command.

Gilbert recognized it as Winterfeldt's regiment. And with this first move, came the next. Schwerin rose his saber, signaling for all commander under him to charge. Gilbert did just that, mimicking Schwerin's movements and ordering his regiment to march.

As the entirety of Schwerin's infantry began their march upon the Austrian forces, the steady explosions of gun and cannon fire began. Smoke began to hang in the air and the searing sound of musket balls sliced through the air, taking down men from both sides.

Not having their artillery with them, Gilbert noticed they were at a slight disadvantage, seeing as the Austrians had theirs to take out men, but overall, their march was going smoothly. The Austrians weren't as prepared for the attack as they ought to have been.

Gilbert let his men filter around him and his horse, allowing them to fire without having to worry about their Colonel taking the hit. The troops had begun to swarm into the meadow that separated the two forces. Gilbert smirked at how easy this was. The Austrians had chosen a poor position and with how things were going with the march, they should be able to take the right flank with minimum casualties.

However, his satisfaction was short lived. He rushed his horse forward, into the field, only for the horse to suddenly catch his leg and stumble forward. Thankfully he caught itself, quickly fixing its stance, but Gilbert had not been so lucky. The unexpected jolt sent him bowling head first over his steed, causing him to land on his back in the mud.

Gilbert was motionless for just a second, complexly shocked at what had just happened. Then getting his sense back to him, he sat up, sending an icy glare towards the animal. Why was it that he always found himself being sent flying off his horses?! Falling off his steed was not good for a Colonel's image! Not at all!

Gilbert dug his palms into the slick mud as he stood himself up, careful not to slip or get his foot stuck in the wet earth. Wait a minute….wet?

Gilbert spun around, eyes scanning over the field. His eyes widened as he watched the soldiers before him struggling to march in the wet earth. They had slowed considerably, the marshy terrain surprising them, slowing not only their movements but their shots.

Gilbert grit his teeth angrily. 'Meadow'? Meadow his foot! This was a freaking marsh! The undisturbed soil masked its true identity until they had set foot in it. Their lines were slowed and confused. Gilbert even noticed a few men slipping in the mud and others even finding a foot knee deep in mud and murky water.

Gilbert turned back towards his horse, who tossed his head side to side and nervously stomping its hooves in the soil, obviously not comfortable with the new terrain. Gilbert made a low growl. The beast would cause him more problems than good. At this point he'd be better on foot. Then his slow and clumsy movements wouldn't make him an easy target for sharpshooters.

He pulled its reins so that it faced the direction they had come, and slapped his hand on its hide, getting the creature to hurriedly gallop away. Gilbert turned and retrieved his fallen musket. Thankfully it had fallen on drier ground. It would have proved him useless if the gunpowder had gotten wet. He wiped off what mud had gotten on the barrel and continued to march forward.

Most of his men had marched ahead of him, and were still struggling to get through the marsh and even wavering a bit. It was obvious the Austrians had noticed the Prussian's confusion, as their gunfire increased.

Gilbert trudged quickly through the mud along the lines of his wavering forces.

"Come on men! We're Prussians! Act like it!" He hollered to his men. "Don't let a little mud slow you down! Take these Austrians down!"

Gilbert reached out and steadied a man who had just began to stumble by his shoulders, releasing him once he had regained his foothold.

"Come on! Onward!" Gilbert hollered once again, running along his men, who helped those close by, but not all could see or even hear him. Ah, the disadvantage of not having a horse.

All in all, they weren't doing well. More men went down, being hit by ether a musket ball or being blown away by a colliding cannon ball, creating explosions of earth as it hit the ground. A few musket balls even flew past Gilbert, just barely missing him. One had even slid just passed his left ear, slicing it open as it zoomed by, making his ear drum ring. He winced at the sudden pain in his head and at the warm liquid dripping down his head and neck, but continued forward with heavy feet while firing his musket at the Austrian lines.

Gilbert growled. He needed to rally the men, but in his position, he could do little but scream orders and empty words of encouragement.

Suddenly brown flashed past the side of Gilbert's vision. He turned his head towards the horse which raced as well as it could through the marshy grounds. He soon noticed that the man was Schwerin, who was currently attempting what Gilbert had tried. He was rallying the men, yelling strong words of encouragement. He stopped his horse in front of the lines, raising his saber, and in a powerful, steady voice, hollered, "Let all brave Prussians follow me!"

In that bleak situation, Gilbert couldn't help but grin and press forward. His chest began to burn with a the essence of pride and determination. They were Prussian, dang it! They would not let some wimpy Austrians take them down! Not without taking them down with them!

Suddenly, Gilbert heard a familiar whistle in the air. It was one that was commonly heard on the battlefield, but he didn't like where the whistling came from. It was close, but not to him.

His head spun around, and his eyes widened frantically. As if in slow motion, he watched the black blotch in the sky grow nearer and louder.

"Schwerin!" Gilbert screamed, breaking off into a run towards his commander.

Schwerin had been too focused encouraging his wavering men to notice the approaching whistle until it was too late. He turned his head in the projectiles direction, just as the cannon ball made contact with the man's chest.

Gilbert watched in horror as the man he had come to deeply respect and trust, was flown several meters off his horse's back. A sickening crack filled the air as the metal ball crushed the Marshal's chest in. It all happened in a mere second, but it was all too clear to Gilbert. Schwerin's body crashed into the ground with another wet crack and thud, sliding a few feet in mud before stopping completely. Everything suddenly became far too still for Gilbert's liking.

Gilbert ran as fast as he could to the fallen body, ignoring the rapid whinnies of the Marshal's startled horse and the cries of the nearby men. He knelt down on the wet ground, feeling cold water creeping into his clothing. But none of that mattered at the moment. Gilbert's heart raced and his whole body felt stiff, cold even.

He turned Schwerin over so he lay on his back, wiping away mud off of his wrinkled face. There was practically a crater in the man's chest. Gilbert knew he must have died before he had even touched ground, but even so, he found himself unconsciously reaching his hand to his throat, searching for a pulse that he knew could no longer be there.

Around them, though their commander had fallen, the chaos continued. In fact, it seemed to intensify, as movement began from the Austrian side, pushing the weakened Prussian forces back down the slope that they so literally fought to climb.

Gilbert felt as if his heart tightened as he took in his next deep breath. Most of the men had continued to press forward even after their leader's death, most still completely unaware, but a few had dropped down next to Gilbert, eyes wide in horror as they stared at the corpse of their oldest commander. Gilbert turned to a few of the men, his sudden hard gaze making the men flinch.

"Get him out of here!" he barked.

"But sir, he's already-"

Gilbert cut off the soldier's flustered statement with another glare.

"Get. Him. Out."

The men were flustered but understood, giving a polite nod to Gilbert before lifting the corpse. Gilbert watched for a moment as the men carried Schwerin's corpse from the battle field, and then turned back to the battle field, musket in hand.

He would not mourn. Not here. Not now. This was neither the time nor the place for it. This was the battlefield after all, though it served as the death bed for many, it did not serve as a burial ground. If one forgot and began to mourn on the battlefield, not only was it utter disrespect to those who had fallen, but it could get you killed as well.

Gilbert began to stomp forward. He was a brave Prussian, he would not fall back. Frederick's forces were now arriving from their rear, a clear sign that his King was determined to press on with the assault. If their orders were to press on, then he would.

A pitiful neigh suddenly caught Gilbert's attention from amongst the chaos. He turned and saw a lone, confused horse trotting some 50 yards behind him. It was clear the animal was confused. He immediately recognized the steed to be Schwerin's. She was a seasoned war horse, and without her rider, she wandered aimlessly among the men and marshes.

Gilbert started to jog quickly toward her, checking around him for any artillery headed in his direction. Thankfully there was enough cover from his own infantry that he was able to reach the horse quickly and safely. Upon reaching her, he snatched up the reigns and hopped atop the saddle. The horse was a little shocked to say the least, but she immediately set to action when Gilbert dug his heels into her side and whipped the reigns. He raced towards the front lines of his regiment, careful of the horse's footing on the loose soil, as he screamed out orders to continue.

For as bad of a position they were in, being pressed back and rained upon by Austrian fire, Gilbert had to be proud of how organized his men still were. It didn't take long to rally them back into their columns and march forward. Not to mention the added assistance from Frederick's forces on the left flank helped immensely.

Parts of the infantry had already run out of ammo, and had decided to physically engage against the Austrians by using their bayonets and swords to stab at each other. The Austrians too seemed to be firing less, but continued to force the Prussian forces back down the slope.

Being low on ammo themselves, Gilbert ordered his regiment to engage as well. He led his troops forward, grabbing his pistol and shooting a few Austrian soldiers who had attempted approaching him. Soon he too, had his saber out, chopping down any man he could.

In the distance, a regally dressed man caught his eye. He too sat upon a horse as he shouted out orders. Gilbert didn't recognize him of course, but he could tell the other was an important Austrian commander. No less than a Colonel at least, but Gilbert bet that he was most likely a General, maybe even Marshal.

Gilbert leapt from his horse, using some unsuspecting Austrian soldiers to soften his landing. He slapped this beast away from him, no longer needing it in such close combat. He turned and once again already found himself with a few of his men forming themselves around him once again, watching his blind spots for him as he fought through the crowd.

Gilbert carefully fought through the Austrians, trying to not make it apparent as to who he was heading towards. However, he was provided with more than just a few soldiers to cut down first, as his decorated uniform tipped most off to his higher status. But he couldn't blame the men for that, after all, that's what he was doing.

He watched from a distance as the Austrian commander prepares another column of his troops for a bayonet charge. Gilbert crept out from the center of the fighting, positioning himself in a spot that was visibly blocked by some charging soldiers. He grabbed his rifle which had been slung onto his back, pointing it towards his target. Gilbert had always been better at the sword rather than sharp shooting, but this was a chance he could give up.

Gilbert waited a few minutes, not yet having a clear enough shot. This man was guarded well, and of course he would be wary of sharpshooters aiming to take his life. However, there was a split second where he left himself open. It was just the slightest moment, but Gilbert was ready, and he took it.

His rifle fired; smoke wafting from the barrel from the ignited gunpowder which sent the metal ball soaring through the air. Just a moment later, the man fell back from his horse, the ball making contact in his upper stomach, and disappeared from view.

Gilbert couldn't help but give a victorious chuckle. A marshal for a marshal. Sounded fair enough to him.

o00o00o00o

_7 Juni 1757_

"I hope Ludwig doesn't ever notice this." Gilbert muttered to himself as he sat atop his cot inside his tent, eyes trained on the reflection in the small mirror he held. He tilted his head and rubbed his fingers over the half inch horizontal scar along his left ear. Though it had healed nearly completely since he sustained it a month ago, it did look a bit off, as if the stitches hadn't been lined up correctly.

"It's not too noticeable." Gilbert finally decided, huffing. "After all, whoever looks at someone's ears? Plus it should probably be faded by the time Luddy ever sees it."

Gilbert placed the mirror down atop his wooden chest and stood up, stretching his arms above his head. Besides not wanting his brother to see it after his reaction to his other scars, Gilbert kind of liked it. And frankly, he was surprised that a sliced ear had been his only wound in that battle

Though things had looked quite bleak at the start of the battle, it had suddenly been turned around at the end. Frederick and Zieten had reorganized their infantry to the south and fought off the Austrians there. The Austrians, while their attentions were on Schwerin's forces, were oblivious to a gap that had formed in their forces. Bevern and General Hautcharmoy spotted the gap before the Austrians and quickly filtered their infantry through it.

It wasn't long before the entire Prussian army was upon the Austrians, having them surrounded at nearly every position. The Austrians had pulled back and with further infantry attacks from their side, the Austrians had begun to retreat into the city. The Prussians had tried to outflank their retreat, but their attacks were covered by an attack from the Austrian cavalry, allowing the entire force to hide behind the walls of Prague.

Gilbert snatched up his hat and placed it on his head before departing from his tent. He stepped outside to the crisp, warm morning air. He took in a deep breath before departing among the rows of tents. As he walked, his eyes couldn't help but glance to the side, scanning over the tall walls of the city not half a kilometer away.

For containing the largest population in Bohemia, along with the a good portion of the Austrian army, it was pretty quiet. At least from the outside it was. The plan after all, had been to capture Prague. It was the same plan that they had made for Pirna, yet things did not work out the same in both locations.

Once the battle had ended and the Austrians had retreated, Frederick had decided against attacking the city. After all, they had taken up heavy casualties. Last Gilbert heard, the count had been over 14,000. With that amount of their army depleted, there was no way they could risk losing more while attempting an attack on the city walls. So instead, another familiar plan was put into motion. They would starve the city.

For over a month now, the city had accommodated both their citizens and the Austrians without any new supplies; their routes being completely cut off by the Prussians. Yet everything was still quiet. It frustrated not only Gilbert, but many others. They should have been pushed into submission by now, right?

Gilbert continued to race through his thoughts as he continued to walk through the camps before reaching his destination. Unlike the first time Gilbert had entered the General's camp; he was immediately recognized and allowed forward without any hassle. A white canopy was staked as a makeshift roof which blocked out the sun's direct rays, and gave the men a sense of privacy. There was also a wooden table set up with charts and maps thrown about it, quite similar to the first General's meeting which Gilbert had attended at the beginning of the war.

King Frederick had already seated himself at the table, silently reading over some reports, while a few other Generals chatted quietly. None of it, from what Gilbert discerned, was small talk, and all coincided with the war. Gilbert stepped within the premises but decided against taking a seat at the table. As a mere Colonel, it was already amazing enough that he was able to attend such important meetings, and would not dare to accidentally disrespect any superior by taking their seat. Instead he remained on his feet, his back comfortably leaning against one of the wooden beams that held up the canopy.

Gilbert glanced around; he did not recognize every man present, though he did find that he knew at least half of them. Some he had never met personally, but had seen them enough to know who they were. Gilbert spotted Winterfeldt, the General who had led the first charge during the battle for Prague. He still had an arm in a sling, and a slight limp, having taken slight artillery, but other than that, he was alert and ready to move things along.

He spotted Marshal Keith, a cheerful, plump Scottish man who had served as a mercenary in both the Spanish and Russian armies in his younger years, but had been in the service of the Prussian army for at least 10 years now. He was very experienced and proved on several occasions to be a brilliant tactician as well. Then to Keith's left sat the all too familiar General Zieten. Gilbert held the man in high respects, and almost considered him a friend, having actually had more time around the man besides the duel.

Gilbert's eyes passed from Zieten and soon landed on an empty seat. He felt a twitch of pain seeing the seat which normally was occupied by Schwerin. That man had been one of their best leaders and had always given the best advice in their meetings. Gilbert's gaze shifted to Frederick, who was still quietly studying a document.

The king had kept himself strong and firm through this whole ordeal. After all, men were lost every day in war. Marshals were no exception. However, the two had been close friends, and having just watched how the two interacted with each other during tactical meetings, nearly being able to read each other's mind, but also filling in whatever the other had missed. It was obvious the two had worked with each other for a long time. He must have been truly saddened by his friend's death.

Gilbert too, had to admit he would miss that old fart's comments and intrusions in the meetings. Over the last five months he had served under him, Gilbert had thought of him as a sort of mentor. After all, it was in his old nature to give Gilbert advice on nearly everything, based on his past experience.

A new face suddenly entered in among the men, quickly hushing any conversations and drawing in all eyes upon him. He was about Gilbert's height, thin and lanky and had curly brown hair. He had a narrow chin with wide cheeks, thin lips and mustache. He had to be in his 40's, but his youthfulness made him appear younger. His green eyes sparkled cunningly as he glanced at his audience; completely ignoring the Prussian escorts he had closely following behind him. He wore a simple outfit, consisting of a commoners blouse and trousers, which Gilbert scoffed at. Christian Andreas Käsebier was anything but common.

He turned his green eyes towards Gilbert, his thin lips curling into what some might think was a charming smile, but was fake in Gilbert's eyes. The man as a whole reminded Gilbert of a weasel.

"Colonel Beilschmidt. We meet again." He said politely, nodding his head and clapping his hands together.

"Yeah, been a while, Käsebier. Last we met I believe you were scouting my tent for valuables?" Gilbert scrawled, his tone polite but with a slight edge to his voice. However, his disgusted glare did sort of give away his displeasure as well.

"Ah, quite right. My apologies. It was my first day here and I had gotten a bit lost in this large camp." He said with fake sincerity. "But I must digress, Beilschmidt, your personals were rather disappointing.

Gilbert growled. What was he talking about? His stuff was awesome!

"Oh yes, and you just happened to LOSE your escorts in the process! Why don't you crawl back in the hole you came from, you piece of sh-."

"Käsebier, you're late." Frederick stated, documents set on the table and grey eyes watching his guest warily.

Käsebier quickly turned his back to Gilbert, his face bright and face smug. He acted as if his confrontation with Gilbert had actually been just another friendly chat.

"Ah, of course! My apologies your highness! You look as majestic as ever!"

"Enough with the stalling and talk. I didn't pardon you from your life sentence just for worthless conversation." Frederick stated bluntly, as he placed his elbows on the table and leaned forward slightly, resting his head on the top of his entwined hands.

"What are the Austrians up to inside the city?"

Käsebier sighed, helping himself to an empty seat at the table across from the king.

"So picky." he muttered, before politely starting on his report.

"I couldn't find out much this time. Rather than simply blending in with the townspeople and listening to gossip, I took to asking around a bit more, even trying to get some info from some Austrians themselves. According to what I've picked up, they don't seem to be planning any means to attack. It seems like they are simply waiting you out."

Frederick's eyebrows knitted together. "They are waiting _us _out?" he asked skeptically.

Käsebier shrugged. "That's what it sounded like. Don't know why. Things aren't looking too great for them in there. The Austrians are keeping things under control, but the townspeople are beginning to panic. They don't seem like they could last much longer but still, the Austrians don't seem too worried."

Frederick remained silent for a moment, his mind analyzing this new information.

"They couldn't be expecting more reinforcements. Not after so long. And they would have to get a scout out of the city, and not one soul has left since we've occupied Prague."

"Ah, but pigeons do work rather well in these situations, don't you think?" Käsebier added nonchalantly.

Frederick's brows creased even more as he began to think, his eyes also scanning over the maps before him in the process.

He snatched up a map of the area, which already had scribbles drawn all over it, specifying patrol paths and points.

"Listen here, men!" Frederick called out, turning every eye to him and the map before him.

He began to scribble wider paths and marking further points.

"Bevern. Set up a patrol along these points just east of the city. Keith, your men remain in the west, however, I want more stationed to patrol wider along the forest. Zieten, I want your hussars just north of the Prosek heights along where our converging point was. We need to prevent any corps from sneaking behind us."

Frederick continued to assign new duties to different men. Gilbert was specifically assigned anything, being of a lower rank, but he knew that his regiment would most likely take part along the eastern patrol. Since Schwerin's death, Gilbert and his regiment had been put under Bevern's temporary command.

Frederick suddenly turned his attentions from his Generals and to Käsebier instead.

"Käsebier, I want you in Prague again. I need to know when they are expecting reinforcements and from where. Also find out if they are sneaking out any messengers or scouts.

Gilbert nearly laughed at how flustered the once calm and cool weasel's face became once his orders were relayed.

"But-but your majesty!" He stuttered nervously. "I've snuck in their three times already in the last month! I stuck my head in deeper than usual in my last inquiry. They have probably discerned my identity by now!"

Oh how Gilbert loved the unimpressed glare Frederick shot the man. It was so different from the cheerful Fritz Gilbert knew when not conducting business.

"I believe the deal was that I pardoned you from the life sentence I gave you on condition you serve as a Prussian intelligence operative. We are not done here. You have yet to provide me with sufficient information."

"But there is no way I could manage it again! I'd be discovered and executed!" Käsebier argued; his usually smooth voice cracking with hesitation.

"If you refuse to do the job I have assigned to you, then I suppose that prison has a better use for you after all then." Frederick added coldly, his gray gaze seemed to dig through Käsebier's very being.

The former thief didn't retaliate this time. He merely remained still, fingers digging into the table edge. He swallowed for a moment, fingers beginning to tap as he weighed his options. After a moment of uneasy silence, he finally opened his mouth to speak.

"Alright." was all he managed to say.

A satisfied smile graced Frederick's lips, and his eyes ceased their hard glare.

"I thought you'd come around." he commented, before his eyes jumped to the man's escorts.

"You may take him back to his dwellings now." he ordered.

The men nodded before helping up a seemingly weak Käsebier from his chair and leading him from the premises.

Gilbert smirked as he made eye contact with the now dead-eyed man as he passed by him, unable to make even one more slide comment towards him.

"Enjoy your trip." Gilbert chuckled, raising one hand and casually waving to the man. "Hope you can bring us some better info this time."

Käsebier's eyebrows knitted slightly at the comment, but that was all he could do before he was out of sight.

o00o00o00o

_18 Juni, 1757_

Gilbert hurriedly marched into his tent, throwing open his wooden chest and digging through it, grabbing all of his battle essentials. He had just returned to camp after checking on one of his patrols, only to find the army in utter disarray as men readied for battle. Scouts had returned with news of an oncoming Austrian army from the north which was threatening to cut off Prussian supply lines and thereby obliterate the siege of Prague.

Many reports had been made, some estimating the enemy forces to have some 44,000 men, while others reported around 65,000. But either way, they were up against a large force. They had figured that the forces must have been alerted from Austrian soldiers who had fled from their battle a month earlier. As for news from Käsebier? He was never heard from again.

Gilbert growled and kicked his wooden chest with his boot. Their forces were much too small to both intercept the Austrians and continue their siege! And he bet his life that the Austrians were well aware of this as well. They had no choice but to take leave of Prague and intercept the enemy, which had apparently already taken the defensive on hills near the town of Kolin.

However, Frederick had already come up with a plan of attack to envelop the enemy's right wing with a good majority of the combined Prussian and even the Saxon forces, which had finally been put to use. If they were able to draw the attentions of the left wing, before engulfing the right, the battle could very well be theirs. It was the perfect plan, and Gilbert expected no less from their Fritz. Though they would have to abandon their positions, if the battle ran smoothly, they could quickly reclaim the area and finally finish this month long siege.

Gilbert took in a deep breath, placing his hands on his hips as he scanned the small tent to see if he was missing anything before returning to his soldiers. Not finding anything, he began to turn to leave but paused upon spotting a small parchment of paper atop his makeshift desk which had been formed by crates. He reached his hand out and snatched the paper, staring at it longingly.

It was a letter Ludwig had written him a few weeks before. He scanned over the words and the neat handwriting which was much too precise for a kid his age. He remembered reading about a few other adventures he had had with Eliza, some comments about his lessons, and even a few stories about Gilbird. According to the blond, the wing had healed marvelously and the bird was allowed to fly all about the house….well, at least until it left Roderich a nice surprise on his piano (which Gilbert praised the creature for). After that, the bird was only allowed to be free in Ludwig's room.

When the weather had finally begun to warm up again, Ludwig said he had attempted to release the bird back into the wild, just as Gilbert instructed him to, but apparently the little bird just wouldn't leave. Ludwig's comment that it was 'waiting for _Bruder_ to come home', had made Gilbert chuckle. His _kleiner Bruder _was just too cute after all.

Gilbert sighed as he sat the letter back down in its place. He had meant to start his response in the next couple days, but seeing as another battle was about to begin, he doubted he would be able to respond so soon.

"I'll write to you soon, Ludwig." Gilbert muttered, eyes still glued to the letter but a grin creeping on his face. "_Großer Bruder _has some Austrians to kill."

**Apologies for the lateness. Took me longer than expected to research and write. And then even took my beta a while to edit it.**

**History:**

***That was the Battle of Prague of course. Kind of hard to write but I think I did ok. And Schwerin really was hit by a cannon ball after shouting that super cool line to attempt to rally his troops. That Sucks.**

***Then the Prussian attempt to siege Prague, and Frederick's attempt to gain intelligence from the inside by sending the notorious thief, Käsebier in as a spy.**

***And the very last part served as an intro into the Battle of Kolin.**

***The man Gilbert shot was Marshal Maximilian Ulysses Count Brown, one of the main leaders of this Austrian force, was also killed during this battle. Couldn't find how….so I figured Gilbert would be awesome enough to do it. He had been injured and carried into Prague, where he died shortly after, all the blame for their failed campaign set on him. Poor guy.**

**There is just way too much history to go through. I almost even wrote it before discovering Schwerin died at Prague! That would have messed things up…**

**Other info I thought would be important for you to know:**

***First Silesian War: 1740-1742 (When Prussia took Silesia)**

***Second Silesian War : 1744-1745 (When Austria tried to get it back….and didn't.)**

**And these were surprisingly different but a part of the War of Austrian Succession. (1740-1748)**

**Some Military stuff (requested by my beta)**

**Rank from greatest to least**

**Field Marshal (Old Fritz is also technically considered a Field Marshal, but since he's king, he's also in charge of the others)**

**General**

**Major General**

**Colonel (Gilbert's rank)**

**Major**

**Captain**

**Lieutenant**

**(there are others but as for this specific time period, I am unsure which were all used. So I'm sticking with the ones which I know were used.)**

**Infantry tactics: (didn't use all, but for future reference)**

**Column/ typical marching formation. Good for breaking through enemy lines**

**Line/ simple two-three rank line. Common battle formation. First row would kneel after firing to allow second row to fire.**

**Square/Good against Cavalry. First line kneels and angles bayonets upward. Second and third lines fire when Cavalry is close. **

**Skirmishers/ light infantry advance to draw in enemy attack, and allowing sharpshooters to pick off the officers.**

**Regiment- military unit, roughly 700-1000 men, led by a Colonel **

***Mai- May**

***Juni- June**

***Jelito - Czech -blood sausage (CHAPTER TITLE)**

**Anyways, hope this chapter wasn't too boring. Still no good at battle scenes. Please leave a review if you liked Gilbert using them Austrians as his personal carpet. **

_**Danke!**_


	9. Ich bin ein Berliner

16_ Oktober, 1757 _

. .

Alvar ran his eyes over the mountains of paper work piling his desk. He arranged them carefully into their appropriate piles. War cost and shipping receipts in one pile, casualties in another, battle plans, motions, allied support…there was just too much to go through. Alvar sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose in frustration. Risking his life in battle was better than this hell. Why did he have to be shot in the leg? Why not his head?

Paper work had always been bad in Alvar's opinion, but this last year had been dreadful. Not just for him, but the Prussian Kingdom itself. Ever since their defeat at Kolin last June, they had been pushed into a downward spiral. They hadn't only lost their chance to take Prague, but also lost the Saxon regiments they had gained the year before. Those _Idioten_ had changed sides at the most important moment during the battle, and now fought for the Austrians. Unfortunately for them, Prussia still had control of Saxony.

Kolin had been their first loss of the war, and it certainly caused a lot of damage, as well as causing a major drop in Prussian moral. And that was only their FIRST loss, the first on a growing list of losses.

Not only did they lose the Saxon regiments, but they had also lost their assistance from their only other ally, the British. Their main Hanoverian army, led by the British king's brother, the Duke of Cumberland, had been defeated this last summer. At The Convention of _Klosterzeven_, the French had forced the electorate of Hanover to surrender, which permanently removed Hanover and Brunswick from the war, leaving the western approach into Prussian territory vulnerable. Frederick had thrown a fit over this, and had been requesting more back up from the British ever since. They still had yet to receive a response.

Since then, their armies had been pressed back into their own territory. They had started with a strong offensive, but now they had already been pushed into the defensive. Another major headache was caused when the Russians finally decided to make a move, succeeding with an invasion into the East Prussian territory. They had already besieged _Groβ-Jägersdorf_ and were slowly making their way further into their territory. Their forces stationed in the east were comparatively smaller than the Russian force, but thankfully the Prussian discipline proved superior, as they were able to keep them back. However, it was only a matter of time before the Russians would break in further. Considering their attack patterns, Alvar suspected _Königsberg_ would be their next target.

What else was Alvar missing? Oh yes! Of course another disgraceful defeat at the hands of the Austrians in _Görlitz_, a part of their Saxon territory in Upper Lusatia. Their army of 13,000 came face to face with an Austrian corps, double their size, leading to a quick surrender, allowing Austrian forces into Prussian controlled territory as well. This defeat had occurred just a month earlier, in September.

Alvar let out another sigh as he rested his elbows atop his desk while rubbing his thick fingers through his long, matted, blond hair. The Russians were coming in from the East, the Austrians from the South, and though they had yet to attack, without the British and Hanoverian troops taking up their time, the French now had an easy access into Prussia from the West. Alvar felt a migraine coming on. He desperately needed a beer.

He glanced back down at his remaining paper work, which contained charts of their armies' next movements, along with predicted enemy courses. Then he began to look around his office. Maps and Prussian banners littered the walls. There were also a few wooden cabinets along the walls, providing him with the filing space that he so obviously needed. There was a single window to his right which allowed just enough sunlight to filter into the room during the day.

There were few personal items in the room. Some medals and objects from his glorious days as a Field Marshall hung here and there, but most were still safely stored at home. Home. That word sounded odd. It didn't feel like he had much of a home anymore. Even though he had been stuck in Berlin all this time, doing paperwork and meeting with the military war counsel, he had not once visited his family's manor towards the edge of the city.

Another quick glance around the room, and Alvar suddenly felt confined. He had a sufficient amount of office space, but it didn't matter. It was too small. Perhaps he'd been there for too long? His blue eyes shot to the right corner of the room where a padded cot had been set up for his overnight stays. Yeah, he needed to get out of here.

Without another thought, Alvar stood up, snatching up his leftover paperwork and left the room. His left leg ached, as it always did after going hours without use, but Alvar hid the limp as best as he could. He was far too prideful to allow himself to appear handicapped (even if he technically was).

As he left his office and marched down the hall, he passed by a few men who also held documents concerning the state of the war. The all glanced at him in bewilderment as he departed. However, it wasn't until he passed by the city's military governor, General Rotzow, that he was spoken too.

"Leaving already Alvar? I must admit that it's odd to see you out of your office."

"Yes, it is. I find that I need a change in environment if I want to complete running through these files without losing my mind." Alvar informed bluntly, causing Rotzow to chuckle.

"I know the feeling. Where to might I ask?"

Alvar thought for a moment before glancing back to Rotzow and answering, "My home."

"Ah, I see." Rotzow nodded. "There will be a meeting in a few days. Do keep up the good work. I will send a messenger to you if we receive any new news from the front lines."

"_Danke_." Alvar replied, before turning from the man and taking his leave.

o00o00o00o

It didn't take long for Alvar to reach his old home. The Beilschmidts were all military men after all, so of course they lived in the capital. Even though it was at the edge of Berlin, it still wasn't far from the Military counsel's office. Alvar scanned over the house which both he and his children had been raised in. It was a large, two-floor, gray house. It wasn't as large as Roderich's manor. Oh no, after all, the Edelstein's were far more prestigious, and lived out in the country on multi acre lands. The Beilchmidt manor was simple. Large by the standards of the common folk of course, but nothing special to him. They were in the city after all, with wealthy neighbors close by in equally large houses. Alvar was just satisfied that they owned a few acres behind the structure.

Alvar revealed his key ring, selecting a key which he hadn't used in years, and then entered it into the lock. With a loud click, the door opened, providing him with a loud creak of the unused hinges. Inside, the building was just as simple as it was outside. Everything was in order, a few pieces of furniture here and there, all covered by white sheets to protect them from gathering dust. Windows were covered, leaving the house dark and dreary. He had to unravel the curtains and fill the room with sunlight before he could do anything else.

The man couldn't help but wrinkle his nose in disgust at how much dust had gathered in his home. But what was to be expected? The last people to live in the house were his boys over a year ago when they had moved to Roderich's during the small time they had had together before the start of the war. And with no one currently living here, what would be the point of keeping on the hired maids to tidy things up?

Alvar opened up another window, which provided him with a clear view of the area behind his house. There he saw the large dirt patch where he and Gilbert would practice their fencing. There were a few wooden poles set up, each covered in their own array of nicks and slashes. One of them even contained the remains of a tattered, stray dummy, which Gilbert had created for bayonet practice. He was quite impressed that it was still there. It had not only withstood an overactive brat with a bayonet, but also the forces of nature. A year of constant wind, rain, and snow, and yet it still stood (it _did_ look like it would crumple to dust at any moment)

Farther back from the sparring area, there stood a small horse stable. It was currently empty, as a neighbor was currently taking care of the ones they could not take with them. The land by the stable was flat and grassy with a few large trees littering the area. A quick glance at a certain tree, and Alvar's lips curved into a frown. He didn't know why he'd never chopped that tree down. Perhaps he was just too busy, but that tree did nothing but remind him of the day he had almost lost Gilbert.

The brat had always been hyperactive, and still was. One of his favorite hobbies as a child, besides fencing, was climbing trees. His wife had never liked it, (she didn't seem to like any of Gilbert's hobbies) but she thought tree climbing was at least better than fencing. Gilbert was smart at least, and seemed to know his limits, so he was _usually_ safe. However, when that ego got in the way, everything went to hell. Especially on that day so many years ago, some snot nosed brat had to challenge his son and his climbing abilities.

Picking out the tallest tree in the yard, Gilbert had scurried up it, going higher than he ever had before with the encouraging shouts of his peer. Alvar hadn't seen it when it had actually happened. He had been inside. Although he had forgotten what he had been doing, he could remember with frightening clarity. the shrill scream of his dear wife. Alvar had heard plenty of screams before. He had also seen countless men die, some falling just next to him, hearing their cries of fear and pain, and watching as they were stained red by their own blood. However, nothing before had struck as much terror in his soul than his wife's shriek, and the sight of his only child (at the time), crumpled on the ground beneath the tree, his eyes unfocused, lungs heaving for breath, and a pool of blood, spilling from his punctured back and staining his pale, blond hair crimson.

Gilbert had climbed too high, reaching a branch which was just barely too weak to support the child's weight. Apparently he had just decided to start climbing back down when the branch snapped, causing Gilbert to fall some 15 feet before landing atop said branch. Alvar clearly remembers rushing to his child, screaming orders to his sobbing wife to fetch a doctor in a voice which was much to stern for his liking. He remembered watching his child lying in his bed, unconscious and covered in blood-stained bandages, not knowing if each breath he took would be his last. The doctor's cold words still haunted his mind.

"_Nothing major was hit, and we were able to stop the bleeding. However, the wound is deep and he lost a lot of blood. It's still unknown whether he'll live or not."_

Alvar shuttered and he closed the curtains. He'd have to chop that tree down the next time he had the chance. He turned and began making his way toward the stairs.

Thankfully Gilbert had been just fine after that accident. Granted, it took a while for him to run around again, but he was a strong boy. He took a few years off of his and his wife's lives with the scare he had put them through, but everything was ok. Alvar also thanked God that Ludwig wasn't like his brother. He'd always preferred simple activities like reading over adventuring and tree climbing. And thankfully Gilbert actually wasn't an idiot when it came to taking care of his younger sibling, especially after their mother had passed on and Alvar's long absences during the Silesian Wars.

Making his way up the stairs, Alvar noticed the plethora of portraits which lined the walls, they ranged all the way back to his grandfather's generation. He noticed the old painting of his grandfather, dressed in the military garb of that time. He remembered hearing stories from him about the time before Prussia was a kingdom. It wasn't until Frederick I of the house of Hohenzollern, the Elector of Brandenburg, intermarried into the branch that ruled the Duchy of Prussia, thus securing his seat as the Duke of Prussia.

It wasn't until 1701 when Frederick I was able to make Prussia an official kingdom, and thereby name himself a king. Well, at least a "King _in _Prussia". Alvar's grandfather had apparently served with the first Frederick during his career.

Eyes glanced from his grandfather's portrait to his father's. It was almost funny how similar the two men looked. In fact, even he resembled their looks with their broad shoulders, bright blond hair, which only differed in length between the men, and piercing cerulean irises. His father's portrait was much like the previous, however, his uniform resembled more closely the current navy blue Prussian uniform of the day, while his grandfather merely wore a generic black German uniform. It wasn't really until his father's time- under the rein of Frederick's son, 'the Soldier-King' Fredrick William I-that the Kingdom of Prussia really began to militarize.

His father, just like Alvar, was a large man in both height and build, and was also a member of the Potsdam Giants, a regiment formed by Frederick William, composed entirely of 'taller-than-average' soldiers. The '_Lange Kerls', _as the towns people called them, were actually quite popular when he was young, giving him something to brag about to his peers. Although the regiment still existed, it wasn't nearly as prestigious as it was 30 years ago.

The pattern with the paintings continued. Farther up the stairs, the newer generation of paintings began to appear. He noticed his own few portraits of when he joined the military, and then a few more as he reached certain ranks. But those pictures weren't what now drew in his eyes. Instead, it was the family portraits which demanded his attention.

One that he noticed was of him, standing tall in none other than his military garb, with his beautiful wife hanging on his left. Even as a mere painting, her radiance shone from the picture. Her long, pale, blond hair pulled back behind the large golden dress around her slender body which she never wore except for special occasions. Her reddish eyes gleamed brightly and her smile was turned in such a way that it reminded Alvar of his eldest son's smile.

Located just in front of the two stood a young Gilbert. Standing between his parents, he would have been about ten. He was dressed in a well-tailored children's suit. His usual smile wasn't on his face, and instead replaced with a blank stare, which Alvar surprisingly didn't mind. After all, he was lucky they even got this portrait done. In most cases, Gilbert wouldn't stay still long enough for any painter to even get an idea of how to paint him.

The next painting nearly broke Alvar's heart upon looking at it. It was of just two figures, his wife, and his infant son. After Ludwig's birth, she wanted nothing more than to have at least one painting of her and her youngest child before her imminent passing. From another's point of view, the painting was unfinished, as there was no real background, and only the main features of the painting were painted, revealing patches of the sketch covered white canvas. But Alvar hung it anyways. Finished or not, he didn't care. It was a beautiful piece of work. Though it made his chest feel hollow at remembering his beloved's passing. He hadn't wanted to risk anything, and would have been perfectly fine with only one son, but she wouldn't have. Alvar was at least thankful that she hadn't died in childbirth, like she had almost done with Gilbert, and instead was able to spend a few years with the child that she gave her life for.

Alvar had reached the top of the stairs and turned the corner, where he noticed one last painting. He hadn't seen this one very much, but it was far too familiar to be comfortable. It depicted an older Gilbert, fully garbed in his own military uniform, in the same pose as the Beilschmidt soldiers before him and his trademark grin adorning his face. Upon first glance, Alvar felt a sense of pride, seeing his son follow in his footsteps. However, given current circumstances, it also frightened him.

He hadn't heard of any harm coming upon him in any of the few letters Gilbert wrote him. However, the boy would be too prideful to admit any injury. But given Alvar's position in the military, he at least knew he would have been notified if any sort of career-effecting injury befell his son, which as much more information than what most parents got. But still, Prussia was in a tight spot. Anything could happen in the battles to come. Unlike when Gilbert was a child, Alvar could do nothing if anything ever befell his son.

Alvar passed the paintings and began towards his office. As he walked, he couldn't help but think more about the portraits. Ludwig was only in one. Alvar pondered over the last memory he had of his youngest. It had been only a few months ago, when he had decided to visit on Ludwig's 11th birthday. They had spent a few splendid days together, Ludwig actually doing most of the talking for once, telling his father about all the adventures he's had, friends he has made, things he learned in his studies, and even events which Gilbert had told him. Alvar wasn't surprised to hear that Gilbert had not once mentioned any of their recent losses, and kept Ludwig in the mindset that they were winning.

Ludwig was a smart kid, and knew his fair share about the workings of war. It made him wonder if Ludwig had never caught the lie, which was understandable, given that he wasn't anywhere near the fighting, or if Ludwig merely had complete faith in his brother, catching the lies but seeing them as a sort of truth? Regardless, all the Alvar wanted was for both of his sons to be home, safe. He was beginning to realize why this plain, dust-covered structure no longer felt like home.

Alvar opened the door leading to his study and took a quick peek inside. With the window still covered, thus restricting any light, it was hard to discern what condition the room was in. However, just the musty, dust-filled air which filled his nose was enough to know he would rather not enter. If the main rooms of the house were filthy, then it wasn't surprising that his study, which only he ever used, was even filthier.

He let out a sigh, shutting the door and deciding it best to work in the parlor. Thankfully it was a nice enough day outside that he could leave the front door open and let the room air out a bit.

Alvar ended up settling himself on one of the old sofas in the parlor, using the small coffee table in front of him as a makeshift desk. It wasn't a very comfortable position, leaning downward from his seat to the smaller table, but anything was better than that cramped office. Work continued smoothly for a couple hours. Alvar was currently marking a chart of their armies current locations and movements, along with predicted enemy movements.

He was busy coming up with future strategy proposals which he could share in the next meeting. Then of course, those ideas would have to be brought to the king's attention. No doubt ably he'd be the one to deliver them. But surprisingly he didn't mind so much this time around. Even if it meant sitting atop a horse all day and even camping out in order to reach the main army, it was better than being stuck in Berlin. At the back of his mind he also pondered the possibility of seeing Gilbert again and checking his safety with his own eyes.

A small smile had started to slip on his lips without him realizing it. However, it soon faded into a frown as something caught his eye. Eye brows knitted as Alvar pulled the chart closer to his face.

"No, there has to be some sort of mistake." he mumbled, going back though his paper work and validating his information with the charts. He scanned over all information regarding marching patterns, bases, regiment splits, etc. But everything was just as he thought. There was no mistake what his eyes told him. There's a gap! The approach leading straight to Berlin was wide open!

Alvar was on his feet so quickly that he nearly lost his footing, as his left leg wasn't completely ready to support his weight and he marched steadily towards the door. He had to inform the counsel! They had to send out a messenger to Frederick as soon as possible. Berlin was vulnerable, left with nothing but the Berlin garrison as their defense, which would be almost nothing if a full size army decided to strike He threw open the door and nearly, quite literally, ran into a young soldier who had his fist posed to strike the door.

"Sir Beilschmidt?" the lad asked, a nervous edge to his words.

"_Ja_. What is it, soldier?"

That's when Alvar really began to take in the man's features. His green eyes were edgy, face pale and drenched in sweat, and breath was quick and frequent. It was as if he had run all the way there.

It took a moment for the young soldier to regain his breath and relay the message which caused Alvar to lose his.

"Just outside the city gates! Austrian Hussars! We're under attack!"

o00o00o00o

By the time Alvar reached the palace, the Hussars had already broken through the gates and into the city. At first, everything was pure chaos. Citizens were screaming and fleeing from the bustling capital's streets, mothers clung to their children and raced into their homes, and men lined up against walls at gun point. It made Alvar's blood boil. Thankfully, there had been no further violence once the army managed to break through; otherwise, Alvar wouldn't have been able to stop himself from getting violent as well.

Alvar ran inside the palace, the inside was also chaos, men running to and fro, servants screaming and hiding. He stomped through the halls. It didn't take him long to reach the council rooms. Without wasting a breath, he burst through the doors, causing startled heads to shoot up. They stared nervously at Alvar for a moment, but calmed slightly at seeing it was just him, and not the Hussars.

"What's our situation?!" Alvar demanded, his voice booming over the chaos.

General Rotzow was the first to speak up.

"Well as you can see, Berlin's been invaded! It's only a matter of time before they have taken the entire city!"

"And the royal family?"

"Safe. At first sign of the approaching army, I had them taken to Spandau with a reasonably sized guard."

Alvar nodded, a tad relieved. They couldn't afford to allow the Royal family to be taken hostage.

Rotzow continued, "They've taken out our garrison, thankfully only capturing most of the men. They swung around King Frederick's southern forces and made a straight shot here. Before attacking they demanded that we surrender under the name of Her Majesty, Empress Maria Theresa of the Holy Roman Empire. When we refused….well, you know what happened after, Scouts say they range around 5000 men."

Alvar frowned.

"The garrison is bigger than that!"

Rotzow nodded disappointedly. "We know. They caught us off guard. We thought that they were bigger"

Alvar sighed, "Have you sent word yet?"

"Of course. Messengers are on their way towards the King's forces right now. It should be only a matter of days before a relief force is sent."

Alvar nodded in understanding, but he still had an angry scowl plastered to his face. It was probably the reason why the remaining council members in the room had refused any eye contact with him.

A large bang and the tremble of dozens of feet sent all heads up. Alvar growled. They were in the palace. He turned and departed from the room, hand itching towards his pistol strapped to his side, ignoring the protests of the men to stay put.

He turned into the hallway and marched forward. It didn't take long for him to spot the group of roughly 30 enemy soldiers marching down the hall in his direction. Once noticing him, they stopped, grabbing their guns and pointing threateningly. Thankfully, the General in lead of the group held his hand out to prevent them from firing.

Alvar continued to stomp towards angrily towards the squadron, making sure his hands were far enough from his sides as to deter any thoughts of him firing on them. He stopped a good 10 feet in front of the General, crossing his arms and glaring threateningly into the man's brown eyes.

"I'm Councilman Alvar Beilschmidt, here to ask what the heck you want."

The Hussars' eyes grew wide and confused at the blunt approach. The Hussar General however, laughed.

"General Andras Hadik of the Austrian army." he countered smugly, his voice laced with a slight Hungarian accent.

"And as for what we want? Well, Berlin for a start. I was also hoping to meet with this Royal family of yours."

"They're out of your grubby reach." Alvar snapped, his icy eyes continuing to stare through the man.

"Pity." Hadik muttered, though he didn't seem too disappointed. He obviously had a ulterior motive then. "Well, we've succeeded in capturing Berlin. Your citizens are safe in their homes-_for now_. The garrison has been captured, and we have men stationed all around the city."

The smugness in the General's voice made his blood boil.

"As a member of the Holy Roman empire, I am quite disappointed with your country's rebellion against her majesty." Hadik added in, a smug smile on his lips. Urgh, it reminded him too much of Gilbert. He just wanted to smack that grin right off his face.

"You haven't told us yet what you want! Your numbers are far too small to keep the city hostage. It's only a matter of time before a force more than double your size will be upon you." Alvar barked back, clenching his fists and doing whatever he could to hold back the urge to knock the other unconscious.

"225,000 _thalers_ and a dozen pair of gloves for the Empress, and we'll leave."

Alvar was shocked to say the least. Money? That was all they wanted? Granted it was a hefty amount, but for the protection of their capital, it was nothing.

He scrutinized the man's face, noting that he appeared serious in his demands. After a moment he nodded, turning his head towards the council chambers.

"Fine. We'll discuss your demands with the rest of the counsel."

o00o00o00o

_19 Oktober, 1757 (three days later)_

"225,000 thalers and they left? That's it?" Field marshal Dietrich repeated irritably, trying to get a hold of the situation.

Alvar nodded, understanding the Marshal's frustration.

"_Ja_. They were gone the day after they invaded. Once we paid the ransom, they took off. Like a bunch of thugs." he growled.

Dietrich sighed, shaking his head. "King Frederick was furious to hear of the invasion and sent my army as soon as he heard. I'd hoped we could have taught those Hungarians a lesson. But still…I can't believe we left our capital unprotected. The enemy noticed before we did!"

Alvar said nothing. He was angry, yet it was partially directed towards himself and his fellow Prussians. Making the mistake to guard your own capital could have proven deadly. Thankfully, it had only been a small Hungarian force, rather than a full size Austrian invasion. Everything they have fought for these last 20 years or so would have been in vain if they had lost Berlin.

"Frederick has ordered my army to remain protecting Berlin for now. Movements may be made, but we'll be sure nothing like this happens again."

After these last words, Marshal Dietrich gave a quick salute and departed from Alvar, taking to his horse and beginning to address a few of his Colonels on their orders.

Alvar scanned around for a moment at the crowd of blue, scrutinizing over all sorts of different faces. Some young and some old and hairy. They all looked a bit worn from their previous battles, but their eyes still burned with determination. While having Berlin captured for a full day was a huge shame for the Prussian empire, it at least fired their spirits. They appeared determined to work harder; to not let anything so disgraceful happen again.

Alvar was about to turn from the soldiers and return to that dreaded office of his -as this would also require much more paper work from him- when a certain soldier caught his eye. He had to do a double take, and even then, he was too far away to see clearly. He began to make his way across the street, watching as this Colonel addressed a group of men.

Alvar could tell it was him before he could even see him clearly. Despite the noise around him from other soldiers and the marching which filled the city streets, Gilbert's voice had always been loud. As he got closer, he could soon discern more of his son's features. Gilbert, who was too engrossed with his orders to notice his father's blue eyes scanning over him from the short distance, continued his speech.

He looked different since the last time Alvar saw him. Not that his facial features changed or anything, but it was his eyes. They were much more focused and serious, yet also a tad weary, having experienced many battles, seeing many comrades fall. It gave him a more mature, grown up look. And although Alvar had always wished the boy would be more serious, his gaze made him stiffen slightly in unease. He looked too much like a hardened soldier and not enough like himself.

Once Gilbert finished his speech the men nodded before departing to carry out his instructions. With his job done, Gilbert turned his head to look about him, just for his eyes to lock with those two, familiar, cerulean ones. His eyes widened and it took a moment for him to register that gaze to be his father's, but once the shock died, that trademark grin of his spread over his lips and he began to jog towards him.

"Hey, old man! Long time no see! Have you missed my majestic presence?"

That twinge of fear was no longer present in Alvar's mind. Instead, it was quickly replaced by the annoyance he commonly felt, along with the urge to slap the lad. Though he did have to admit to himself. He was slightly relieved.

"Of course not. I've quite enjoyed the time away from you and that disrespectful mouth of yours." Gilbert chuckled. "That's fine! After all, I've enjoyed not having to hear your stupid lectures and those looks of utter disappointment.

Alvar rolled his eyes before giving his son a slanted look. Gilbert just laughed more.

"_Ja_! Just like that one!"

Alvar wasn't sure how to respond. Though before he could think of how, his eyes flickered to the left side of Gilbert's head. Like lightning, he snatched a hold of Gilbert's ear, pulling it towards him.

Gilbert yelped in surprise at the sudden action.

Alvar looked over the ear, rubbing a finger along the long white scar marring it.

"Oooow! Hey! Cut it out!" Gilbert hollered, trying to break free from his father's grip without causing himself any more pain.

"Careful! Even if it wasn't still sensitive, grabbing an ear in general is painful! Let go!"

Gilbert was readying himself to ram his elbow into Alvar's gut before he was suddenly released. Gilbert shot up and took a step back, hands up to message the injury.

"The heck was that-!?"

"Is that it?" Alvar cut in before Gilbert could finish his complaint.

Gilbert raised a brow. "_Was?_"

"Is that it? Injury wise. Just a mangled ear?"

"Don't say 'mangled'! It's a beautiful ear!" Gilbert barked back.

"Answer the question boy." Alvar's said bluntly, his tone serious.

Gilbert gave his father a confused look for a moment before answering. "_Ja_. A few nicks here and there, but that's it."

Alvar nodded approvingly, running a hand through his long blond hair. "Good." He felt like a major weight had been lifted from his chest.

Gilbert continued to give his father a startled, questioning look with a hand still clasped over his ear.

"What was that about?" he asked wearily.

"Nothing. Just surprised you aren't dead yet." Alvar answered flatly, eyes not able to meet Gilbert's.

"Pssh, you have little faith in me! No one's taking me down! Things may not be favorable at the moment, but it'll get better!"

All Gilbert's rebuttal got in return was silence. Gilbert waited for a response before giving up, a gloved hand rubbing the back of his head as he sighed.

"Well, this whole ordeal at least made me happy that I decided to leave Ludwig with Roderich."

Alvar glanced back at Gilbert, who was now staring off into the distance, his face solemn.

"I would have keeled over with worry if he were still in Berlin."

"So you gave him to the Austrians early on." Alvar added in dryly, barely repressing a smile. This comment got a snort out of Gilbert.

"Yeah, but that Austrian is harmless! He'd stand no chance against my _bruder_!"

Alvar couldn't resist but chuckle.

"By the way, have you seen him recently?'

"_Ja_." Alvar nodded. "I visited him for his 11th birthday. I made sure to get your letter to him too. He's been growing a lot. Too heavy for me to lift on my shoulders."

"Yeah. I have a feeling that kid will be a beast someday." Gilbert chuckled, though he still gazed into the sky longingly, regretting not being able to watch his kid brother growing up.

More silence followed, which, though it was usual for Alvar, it wasn't for Gilbert. That edge of nervousness found its way back onto Alvar's chest.

"How long will you be in Berlin?" he managed to ask.

"A few days at most." Gilbert shrugged. "Marshal Dietrich is planning to leave more men in and around the city to support the garrison, while my men and the rest will be stationed farther north. Dietrich's men will remain, but mine may be moved around a bit more. Who knows these days" I could be anywhere."

"You should visit your _Mutter_ before you leave."

Alvar had forgotten to visit it himself, but in very back of the Beilschmidt land, hidden behind a grove of trees stood a small graveyard, where both Alvar's parents, grandparents, and wife were buried. It was a family plot that every Beilschmidt would eventually be buried in; with exception to his elder sister, who had instead been buried with her husband on the Edelstein's plot in Austria.

Gilbert nodded.

"Yeah, I haven't visited her since Ludwig and I first left Berlin."

Alvar noticed that his son's voice held a hint of guilt within them.

"I'm sure she's proud of you, Gilbert."

This got Gilbert's attention, as he turned his gaze to his father in a questioning look.

"How? She wanted me to help raise Luddy. And instead I've pawned him off to Roderich and Elizaveta so I could fight. And she never did like the prospect of me joining the military."

"Well, while it's true that she didn't like the idea of her sons being involved in war, she always knew she could do nothing about it. It's in your blood after all. As for Ludwig, you've done a fine job with our boy. Better than I could have asked for." Alvar had to pause to swallow before continuing. "Before she passed, she did share her concerns about you. You were so mischievous and wild that she had worried about what kind of man you'd grow up to be. But I can see now that you have grown up quite nicely…despite a few things here and there."

Gilbert stared at his father, his lips parting for a moment to speak, only for him to be hushed by a loud voice calling for him. Gilbert turned and nodded to the source before back again to the blond.

"Well, looks like I'm needed now. Thank you for your hard work, _Councilman_ Beilschmidt." He saluted with a wide smile on his face, which was void of any smugness or mischievousness.

Alvar saluted back.

"Take care, _Colonel_."

Gilbert breathed out a chuckle before turning his back to him and soon disappearing amongst the crowds of men.

**I believe the Prussians just got themselves trolled! Well done, Austria! Well done!**

**WHEW! Lots of facts to talk about in this one!*****

**Once Hadik returned to Austria and was promoted to a Field Marshal. He's pretty famous for his short, yet successful capture of Berlin.**

**History:**

**Gilbert was growing up during the first two Silesian wars which also explains why Vati was gone so much. **

**Also, if you didn't know, this is when the Holy Roman Empire existed, which was ruled mainly by the Hapsburgs, which were the Austrian royalty, so AKA, Maria Theresa at this time. Prussia was once one of the many small German states within the empire but was made awesome when the Hohenzollern family took over, which I went over. Fritz was the one that made Prussia an actual power in Europe because of his successes in the wars.**

"**King IN Prussia": (My original explanation was flawed, so thanks to Velgamidragon for the correct one! I hadn't actually researched this and was using what I remembered from History class.)**

** Part of what qualified Prussia to become a kingdom was because the Duchy of Prussia was outside the territory of the Holy Roman Empire, hence the upgrade. However, the reason why the sovereign was called the King in Prussia was to not offend the Polish King, of which, Polish land completely surrounded the Duchy of Prussia (even though Poland was no longer the suzerain of the duchy). Only when the territory of the Duchy of Prussia was united with the main Brandenburg territory did Frederick II become King /of/ Prussia. **

**Hussars: a name for cavalry men…mainly Hungarian ones, but could also be other nationalities.**

**Garrison: body of troops, stationed in a particular location.**

**Mentioned battles:**

*** July 26, 1757: Battle of Hastenbeck/ Hanover and Britain vs. France/ French Victory**

** -the battle that knocked Britain's Hanoverian troops out of the war.**

***August 30 1757: Battle of Gross-Jägersdorf / Prussia vs. Russia/ Russian Victory**

***September 7, 1757: Battle of Moys/ Austrian victory**

***Thaler: silver coins, used as type of European currency from the 15****th****until 1908 (in Germany at least) Actually was one of the standard currencies in the Holy Roman Empire. Was the main currency in Prussia from 1750-1857. But there were a lot of different kinds of thalers. Money is confusing. Fact! The word "Dollar" is derived from "Thaler". Maria Theresa also has her own thaler, which they first minted in 1741, and didn't lose value until 1858.**

**Gilbert's "Albinism":**

**Fun fact for you! Did you know that Prussia's original character appearance he was blond and blue eyed? Well back then Himaruya needed to make his characters more distinct (example: thick eye brows for our dear England) and so he made Prussia with red eyes and white hair. Well, as his art work improves, Prussia's character design is slowly becoming blonder and his red eyes are merging with purples. Though I don't dislike the idea of Gilbert being albino, I like to think that he isn't because it goes more with his country if he isn't. Plus an albino during the 18****th**** century would be getting a lot of negative attention, and would be unrealistic for the story, so for my purposes, Gilbert is not albino. I didn't change his eye color though because that would cause a lot of confusion. This is anime fan fiction after all. Odd hair and eye colors are pretty common. Like violet eyes for instance! (cough cough***_**Roderich, Ivan, Matthew***_** ) **

***This is the 18****th**** century. The era where they would purposely bleed people to remove disease or infection. This is before the knowledge of bacteria and medicine, so a simple wound like what Gilbert sustained as a child could very easily kill him. 'Twas only a flesh wound!' **

**German:**

**Lange Kerls- Tall guys**

**Idioten- Idiots (obvious, non?)**

**Ich bin ein Berliner- I am a Jelly Donut. CHAPTER TITLE (I think everyone who takes/has taken German knows this pun! "Ich bin Berliner" means "I am a Berliner", but with that added "Ein", you suddenly become a Jelly donut, which is also called a "Berliner")**

**Wanted to update faster, but my beta still faced problems…so still later than I wanted. But thankfully I knew the basis of what I wanted for this chapter at least, so writing it wasn't a huge issue. Hope you did mind having the focus on Alvar this time!**

**And I'm going to warn you now! Big time skip in this next chapter! But it shouldn't be confusing. Hopefully…**

**Take care, and as always, reviews are always appreciated! I like to know who my readers are! It makes me happy!**


	10. Of Mice and Piano Men

A loud snap and a shrill squeak echoed against the trees, immediately grabbing a young Ludwig's attention. He stood up slowly, eyes trained in the direction of the sound, a hand automatically reaching besides him to clamp the fabric of his brother's shirt.

"_Bruder_! Did you hear that?" Ludwig asked in a hushed voice.

Gilbert, who was crouched with his attention to the ground before him, turned his head to look over his shoulder.

"What is it, Luddy?"

"The-the first snare! I think we caught something!" Ludwig informed, his voice shacking in excitement.

Gilbert grinned widely and his eyes seemed to sparkle.

"Why don't you go check? I'm almost done tying down this snare. I'll catch up with you right after. I promise."

With those words a wide smile grew on Ludwig's face before scampering into the trees. He ran as fast as his short legs could go over the path his brother had shown him, hopping over tree roots and crushing fallen twigs under his feet. Within a minute or so, he found himself standing at the same young tree he and his brother had tied down not 15 minutes earlier. This time however, the tree was fully upright with a lanky brown hare hanging from a rope wrapped around its hind leg. It dangled helplessly from the rope, letting out small, panicked squeaks.

At first, Ludwig was delighted. He had caught his first ever animal after all! But after hearing the creature's soft cries and staring into its deep, beady, black eyes, his excitement dissipated. He stared at it hanging for a moment, his chest beginning to feel heavy. He had to let it go! It looked so terrified.

Before he could even move, Ludwig heard soft footsteps as his brother appeared from the clearing.

"All right! Looks like you caught one Ludwig!" He shouted happily as he walked towards him from behind. Ludwig felt a hand ruffle his hair affectionately before Gilbert was trotting past him and towards the hare. His hands began working at untying it, eyes glancing from their catch and back to Ludwig.

"Come! I'll show you how to skin it! And if the other snares catch anything, we'll be having a feast tonight!"

But Ludwig remained glued in place. His throat contracted, trying to voice his protests, but they only came out as choked sobs.

It wasn't until Gilbert had the animal untied with both ears tightly grasped in his fist, his other hand reaching to snap its neck that Ludwig was able to form the words in his mouth.

"_Nein_! _Bruder_, please don't!"

Gilbert glanced up from the animal, eyebrows raised from the sudden outburst.

"What's wrong Ludwig? Come here, I'll show you how to kill it."

"_Nein_!" Ludwig repeated, hands clutching the hem of his shirt nervously.

Gilbert cocked his head to the side. "Why not?"

Ludwig lowered his gaze, unable to make eye contact. His hands continued to fumble with his shirt and he dug his toes into the soil. He knew they had to kill it. Hunting was just another part of life. Vater had taught Gilbert when he was his age, and now it was his turn. But he just couldn't bring himself to watch, or even know of any further harm coming to the animal.

"Couldn't we just let it go? _Bitte_?"

"Ludwig. It's just a rabbit. We eat them all the time. We have to kill it."

Ludwig bit his lip. He _knows_ this! He really does! So why was this so hard for him to do? He wasn't even the one killing it.

"_Bitte, Bruder_? I don't want to eat rabbit tonight. I want to get some _wurst_ from town."

Gilbert stared at Ludwig for a moment, eyes scanning over him and making the boy nervous. It wasn't until he let out a long, defeated sigh that Ludwig was able to look up.

"Ok, ok. You win. But just for today, got it? I will teach you to skin a hare! You are already seven."

Ludwig's face lit up and he nodded. "_Ja_! I promise! You can teach me later!"

Gilbert let out one more sigh before looking at the hare in defeat. It made Ludwig feel a bit guilty. His brother had been really looking forward to hare meat for dinner.

Finally his fingers relented, dropping the rodent, which zoomed out of sight the moment it's feet touched the ground.

Gilbert stood up from his knees, wiping the dirt off of his trousers.

"Well then, if we're buying dinner tonight, then we better take down those other snares. But _you_ better be the one to do it!" Gilbert huffed, pursing his lips and staring at Ludwig with narrowed eyes. Ludwig gave a guilty smile, nodding to his brother.

Gilbert's large hand suddenly grabbed hold of Ludwig's small hand as they started back to the other snares they had set up around the forest. Ludwig couldn't help but marvel at how his brother's hands seemed to swallow his own. They always had. He rubbed his thumb across his rough, calloused fingers. They were so warm and comforting. He'd always feel safe as long as those hands were there to protect him.

He glanced back up towards his brother's smiling face, matching it with his own large smile.

"I'm glad you're with me today, Gilbert. You've been gone a lot lately. I'm tired of spending the day with Frau Schmidt."

Gilbert frowned. "Sorry Luddy. Military training has been rough lately. And what's wrong with Frau Schmidt? I thought you liked her?"

Ludwig wrinkled his nose. "She's old and smells of too much perfume. She doesn't let me read anything but the Bible, which I don't really understand."

"But she's an amazing cook." Gilbert countered.

Ludwig couldn't argue with that. The woman had a gift.

When Ludwig didn't answer, Gilbert began to rub guiltily the back of his head with his free hand.

"Again, I'm really sorry. Things have been really busy lately. I think the King is planning something. And I've already been promoted to a Captain, which is great, but it also means I am home less often. But don't worry, _Vater_ and I will still be around."

"I miss _Vater_ too, but I mainly just miss you, Gilbert."

Gilbert blinked at Ludwig for a moment, surprised at the comment, before his lips formed into a sad smile.

"I'll get _Vater_ to visit more. I promise. As for me, I'll always be here. Sure I may be gone from time to time, but I'll always be back."

Ludwig smiled approvingly. "_Gut. _I'm happy just as long as _bruder_ is with me."

Gilbert smiled too for a moment before it suddenly disappeared.

Ludwig continued walking forward, noticing his hand slip from his brother's grasp. He paused, glancing back to his elder sibling, who stood motionless, lips formed in an unreadable line and wide red eyes staring at nothing.

Ludwig didn't even realize that they were no longer in the forest, or anywhere for that matter. Or that his brother was now garbed in his dark blue uniform instead of the plain white blouse and tan trousers.

'Bru-?"

Ludwig's questioning plea was cut off by what sounded like a loud clap of thunder, which vibrated painfully on his ear like a drum. He winced painfully for a moment, closing his eyes and shrinking back. But the sound was gone as quickly as it came. Slowly, his lids opened, allowing his cerulean irises into the light.

Gilbert still stood in front of him, face just as blank and expressionless as before. However, this time, to Ludwig's horror, a dark, wet stain was blossoming across his chest, turning his blue coat a hideous black. Ludwig released a slight scream as his now 12 year old body to move, his legs shaking as he raced towards his sibling.

Gilbert's eyes looked just as blank as before, his knees giving out, causing him to fall forward towards Ludwig's outstretched arms. However, Ludwig never felt his brother's body in his embrace. Instead, a pile of letters fell, scattering into his arms. His hands shook violently and his knees gave out, falling to the cold, unfamiliar ground. His fingers ran through the parchment around him. Each was folded, with remains of the wax stamp which once held them closed. The yellowing and crumpled corners showed sign of use, yet not a word was written.

Ludwig felt his heart begin to race, as he began to franticly search through each letter. There had to be something written! There just had too! But no matter how long he searched, looking over the same sheets of paper multiple times, there were never any words. Ludwig screeched, throwing the letters away and crawling quickly away from them. Those weren't his brother's letters! That wasn't his brother! Where was he?! Where was his Gilbert?! His big brother!?

Ludwig's next scream was only too real, as he woke from his tortured sleep, sending him straight up in bed. His face was riddled with sweat droplets, strands of blond hair sticking to his forehead. His heart was still racing and he soon found that he was panting; his lungs desperate for air.

It was still night and he could see nothing but the faint moonlit outline of his legs. His mind, which had previously been filled with ravage questions that needed to be answered, was finally slowing down, putting together each piece of the situation at hand.

Hands shot up to cover his mouth. He'd screamed. What if he woke Eliza and Roddy?

It was almost funny when there was a light knock on his door before it opened an inch, revealing the worried face of Elizaveta. Noticing Ludwig's upright form, she opened the door further. Her chocolate hair was a mess, and she wore nothing but a man's shirt, which thankfully, was long enough to come to her mid thigh. She held a lit candle stick in her hands, accentuating her sleep riddled eyes.

"Everything all right Ludwig?" she asked worriedly.

"_Ja_. I'm fine. I just saw a mouse, that's all." he lied.

Her green eyes widened a bit, but she was still too tired to react properly. Instead she nodded, beginning to close the door again.

"Wait, Lizzy."

She poked her head in the door again.

"Can I…can I have the light?"

Elizaveta nodded, thinking nothing of the odd request. She stepped sluggishly into the room, placing the candle holder on the desk in the corner of the room before departing with a slurred, "Good night".

Once Eliza was gone and the door shut, Ludwig leapt from the covers of his bed and rushed towards the desk. He grabbed hold of the metal handle of the bottom drawer and ripped it open, surprised he didn't pull the entire drawer out.

From the drawer he pulled out a large stack of folded parchment, tied carefully together by a long, red ribbon. He hated how long it took for him to untie the fabric, but once it was loose, he wasted no time in sliding the letters out and unfolding them. There were words. He carefully unfolded another. It too was covered in black inked letters. Another. Same thing.

Ludwig felt his heart slow and his shoulders relaxed. His brother's letters. They were still here. Still filled with word of his brother's health and adventures throughout these past two and a half years. His eyes mulled over another letter, taking in the curves and points of Gilbert's letters. He especially loved the way Gilbert signed his name. The size of the cursive G and the smooth tips of each connected letter. He once believed that his brother's handwriting was rather messy and rough. And now, there was no better handwriting in his eyes.

Ludwig's eyes jumped from the signature on the page to the date at the top.

_2 Oktober, 1756._

One of the first letters. Gilbert mentioned Saxony. The siege.

He began flipping through more letters, taking note of the dates, and scanning through the content.

Prague. Prussian's first defeat. Russians take East Prussia. British/Hanoverian surrender. Austrian victory. Brief invasion of Berlin. Russians retreating back from East Prussia.

A frown covered Ludwig's face as he went over these passed events. His brother hardly told him anything of his actual battles, or their country's position in the war. He'd mention small things here and there and Ludwig quickly discovered that the less that was said about the war, the worse it was. While the opposite was true as well, Ludwig knew all about the Prussian victory at Rossbach in November of last year. Gilbert continually talked about how amazing it was, the Prussians taking out a combined force of both Austrians and French, more than double the size of their army, with minimum casualties. Praise towards King Frederick and his military tactics was also quite common.

Then of course there was Leuthen a month later. Gilbert hadn't talked about this one as much as the last, but it was still a tremendous victory against the Austrians. His brother even mentioned there being no chance that the Austrians would ever get Silesia now.

Other than some small details here and there, Gilbert almost purposely left Ludwig completely uninformed, which he just couldn't handle. Ludwig began doing all that he could to find out more without his family. He'd go with Elizaveta to the markets, just for the chance of hearing gossip on the streets or finding a discarded newspaper. He'd ask random strangers or children his age if they'd heard anything. He also got quite a lot of info from his tutor whom his cousin had hired a year ago, who was also very interested in the war. However, Ludwig did sometimes find it hard for him to hold his tongue at times. He had to consider he was still in Austria, the enemy country. Though it always did make his blood boil when someone would get off on a wild tangent, mocking the Prussians when all Ludwig had asked for was the outcome of an event.

Once Ludwig felt like he got sufficient information on the going-on's of the war, he would cross reference his notes with his brother's letters, finding any sort of correlation, any small clue as to discover what Gilbert was truly involved in. Sometimes his research proved to be fruitless, as Gilbert wouldn't let anything slip, but sometimes, he could figure things out. This last December for instance, Ludwig heard rumors of Sweden becoming involved with Northern Prussia over Pomerania. But judging from his brother's letters, he hadn't been involved in any of those battles.

In his letter dated last June, he mentioned working together with the Hanoverian troops, and even meeting a few British. Ludwig clearly remembered his teacher mentioning how dishonorable the British had been to turn and break the treaty they had made and jump back into the war. And apparently the British had also sent in actual ground troops as support. Gilbert had mentioned meeting a British man named Arthur, who had a very hard time in hold down his liquor and was a far worse drunk than he had ever been. Ludwig could only guess that Gilbert had fought the French at least once then, if he had been in company of the British.

Ludwig knew little else, much to his despair. Small whispers of the Russians striking again, but not much else. Then of course prideful whispers of another Austrian victory over the Prussians. He knew nothing else about the events though.

His eyes were drawn to the most recent letter he had received from his beloved brother, eyes catching hold of the date written at the top.

_4 November, 1758_

This letter was nearly a month old. It was now December again. Another Christmas approaching. One which would never compare to that Christmas 2 years ago. He still found himself wondering into the stables on the , snowy days, that were similar to that day. _Vater_ would still come. Elizaveta and Roderich would make all sorts of sweets and buy him presents, but it was never the same.

Ludwig released a shaky breath as he lifted his hands to cover his face. Warm moisture suddenly dampened his palms, causing him to quickly retract his hands in surprise. After a moment, he warily touched his fingers to his eyes, feeling the salty tears slowly leaking from their corners.

"_Nein_."

Immediately he was wiping the tears from his face using the sleeve of his night shirt.

"_Nein, nein, nein_!"

He held the fabric tightly to his face, wishing the tears to stop. He couldn't cry. Not when his brother wasn't here. He needed Gilbert; his strength. If Gilbert was there to protect him; to comfort him, then he could cry. But Gilbert wasn't here. Ludwig had to be his own strength this time, and that meant no crying. Crying alone did nothing to sooth his sorrows, he soon learned. And he refused to cry upon anyone else's shoulder. He didn't want to rely on them; to become a burden, and he doubted they could comfort him like Gil could. So he needed to be strong. Hold everything inside. Just like he's done these past few years.

Once Ludwig finally managed to smother the tears, he carefully arranged each letter back in its place, organized from oldest to most recent, and tying the red ribbon back over the bundle to secure it. Once his most precious possessions were safely stored back in their proper holding, he leaned over to the light and blew it out, once again submerging himself in the lonely darkness. He left the desk and crawled back into his bed, retrieving the blanket which had been tossed to the floor when he had jumped out earlier.

He curled himself in the soft blanket, pretending that the warmth it provided was the warmth of his brother's body next to him. Ludwig couldn't help but sniffle slightly when his nose felt a little runny.

"I must be catching a cold."

o00o00o00o

"Elizaveta."

"Hmm?" Eliza popped her head up from behind Ludwig's bed wearing a helmet of some sort. "What is it Ludwig?"

Ludwig wasn't sure if he wanted to ask. She was currently crawling on the floor of his room, dressed in an overly large pair of trousers (to his horror, they were a pair of Gilbert's which were left behind. He swore to never tell his brother or he knew he'd be hearing a bad pun for years to come) and a shirt, complete with aprons, gloves, and armed with a broom in one hand, and a frying pan in the other. Gilbird had been smart and gotten away from the woman; perching himself from atop a high shelf.

I took Ludwig a moment before he finally mustered up the courage to ask.

"What are you doing?"

"Searching for those mice you saw! I knew it was only a matter of time before they found refuge here!" she paused to cackle. "Well they certainly won't be here for long!"

The fierceness and determination in her face made the boy shiver. She had gone pack to searching, currently with her head under his bed, pushing aside boxes in an attempt to scare out this enemy.

Ludwig contemplated whether he should tell her or not that there wasn't really a mouse. After all, it was only a matter of time before the woman began setting up a series of traps to catch this imaginary rodent. However, he'd rather prefer she didn't ask for the true reason for his scream in the middle of the night. He was too old to be having nightmares now. Nor did he want her to worry about him or any of his fears anymore. He'd had enough of those looks of pity these two and a half years.

"Is there something you need?" Eliza asked, poking her head up from the bed once again to look at him.

"No. Never mind. Hope you catch it."

"Roger! No vermin will enter the Edelstein house without me punishing them!" she proclaimed haughtily, continuing her escapade.

Ludwig nodded. Not sure what else to say. But just as he was leaving the room, he heard Eliza's voice calling out to him.

"Oh, I almost forgot! You're done with your studies for today, right? Roderich said he needs to talk to you!"

Ludwig raised a blond eye brow questioningly but nodded. Waving a quick goodbye to the crazed woman before making his way down the stairs and into the music room where he assumed Roderich would be. Ludwig almost laughed in surprise, seeing as his cousin wasn't there. He left the room and started for the kitchen. Perhaps he had decided to bake something. He secretly hoped he did.

"Ludwig! Over here!"

The blond stopped abruptly, just before entering the kitchen, turning around to the direction of the hushed voice. There Ludwig noticed Roderich poking his head out from a doorway. He glanced from side to side before making eye contact with his younger cousin and waving him over. Ludwig did as he was told, approaching his cousin cautiously and entering the door which Roderich held open for him and then closed once he was fully in.

Ludwig was more than a little curious with the Austrian's actions. He was acting so nervous all of the sudden. He's never seen him like that. And what were they doing in the cellar? He expected these kinds of sporadic actions from his brother, but definitely not from Roderich.

"_Ja_? What did you want to talk to me about, _Vetter_?"

Roderich leaned his back against a wine rack, one hand fidgeting with his cravat while the other he had folded behind him. He didn't know why he found it so hard to look Ludwig in the eye. Ludwig shouldn't be the one he's nervous around!

"Well," he began, his hand now fidgeting with his glasses instead.

"I want you to help me out with something."

Ludwig waited for a moment for Roderich to finish his request….but he didn't.

"Ja. And what _is _it Roderich?" he prodded.

It took a few seconds before Roderich could form the words. "I-I want to ask Elizaveta to marry me."

It was almost funny how calm he suddenly felt. As if all the stress and nervousness was gone. After all, this was the first time he ever opening admitted it to someone. It had taken him long enough just to recognize his feelings for the woman, and even longer for him to get himself to commit to this decision. And now finally, he was able to openly admit it to someone who could help make it a reality. There was no going back now.

Ludwig stared at him with wide, surprised eyes. Roderich expected him to suddenly burst out into a smile (something which has been increasing rare in the young boy these few years) and congratulate him. So he was quite shocked when instead the 12 year old crossed his arms and gave him a stern look, which was too similar to his _Onkel'_s own gaze.

"It's about time! _Bruder_ and I were beginning to think you'd never do it."

Roderich wasn't quite sure how to respond to a comment like that.

o00o00o00o

"Wait, so you're planning to do it tonight?" Ludwig asked as he walked besides his cousin through the town market, his voice finally holding a hint of excitement.

"Of course. I've been planning this night for months." Roderich answered nonchalantly, his eyes focused on a food cart filled with expensive herbs.

"And you wait until the day of to tell me? That's pretty poor planning if you ask me."

Roderich shot Ludwig a defensive look with a slight blush on his face. "You've really been becoming an uncute child, did you know that Ludwig?!"

The 12 year old responded by crossing his arms and tilting his head. Staring his cousin in the eyes until the violet eyes relented and he sighed.

"_Ja,_ I know. I should have asked you earlier. But I have everything planned. I just need your cooperation."

Ludwig nodded, his eyes brightening. He enjoyed the fact that he was needed. "So what are your plans then?"

"Once we're done buying the food here, I will start on the dinner. We should avoid having Elizaveta in the kitchen if we can, but if not, then it shouldn't be that bad, since it's not that uncommon for me to cook. In my bedroom, in a large box under my bed there is a gorgeous green gown. I want you to get it on to Elizaveta's bed without her noticing. She seems pretty distracted with something in the house today. Let's try to take advantage of that."

Ludwig was noting each word carefully, not being able to hold back a small chuckle. Who would have known his small lie would prove so convenient. And with how resolved the woman had been on her quest, Ludwig figured she would be distracted until the evening.

"How do we get her to wear the dress?"

Roderich breathed a knowing chuckle. "You have a lot to learn about women, Ludwig. All she has to do is see the dress and she'll wear it."

Ah, Ludwig remembered hearing his brother say something like that. Although if he recalled correctly, it had been more of a warning.

"_Women will take anything that's expensive and pretty, Luddy! Be careful or they will take everything you've got!"_

Ludwig shook the thought from his head. Why had he thought of that? It was nothing like what Roderich had said.

"By the way Ludwig, how confident are you on the piano?"

His question shocked the boy out of his thoughts, earning Roderich a wide, confused look from those bright blue eyes.

"Huh?"

o00o00o00o

"No no. You're playing much too slow, Ludwig! Start over!"

Ludwig groaned quietly, stopping his fingers and placing them back at the starting position. He flexed his fingers before starting the piece again. His fingers flew over the gleaming ivory, creating a beautiful melody that Roderich had written. Roderich's violet eyes were shut from behind his glasses, as he listened carefully to the melody. He didn't even notice that his fingers were moving, as if playing the same melody on invisible keys.

Ludwig knew something was wrong the moment his cousin's calm face hardened. And sure enough, Roderich's eyes were open and he was yelling again, "Too sharp! You need to be aware of the keys! Now again!"

Ludwig wanted to do nothing more than to slam his face against the piano keys. He'd always hated the piano. Even after 2 years of lessons, and despite amazing improvement within himself, it didn't stop him from hating it. The Austrian pianist was too much of a perfectionist.

"Why do _I _have to do this?" Ludwig whined.

"Because I want everything to be perfect! I already told you, during dinner it will be your job to play!" Roderich huffed. "Now start again!"

Ludwig released another whine, before starting to play again. The pianist folded his arms as he listened once again to the composition. He needed it to be perfect. He would love to play the song himself, but that wasn't possible tonight. Ludwig needed to perfect this piece so he could play during his and Elizaveta's dinner, providing the perfect atmosphere for a proposal.

Another wrong note pulled Roderich from his musings. Ludwig had immediately stopped, knowing he had messed up again, and was staring away from Roderich, ready for the lecture he was about to receive.

"Aww, why'd you stop?"

Roderich had had his mouth open, ready to reprimand the lad, but the soft voice of Elizaveta left him speechless. Both he and Ludwig spun around to stare at the brunette woman leaning in the doorway.

She was in the same outfit she had been in when Ludwig saw her earlier, minus the helmet. (which Ludwig finally figured out she had stolen it from the suit of armor set on display in the study.) Her hair was disheveled and her skin held traces of sweat.

Roderich felt his face go red, hoping the woman hadn't heard any of their previous conversation. All his plans would be ruined!

"I missed a note." Ludwig answered the woman dejectedly. As much as he hated the piano, he was also very good at punishing himself for his mistakes.

"Really?" she asked, her green eyes wide. "It sounded perfect to me. You play beautifully Ludwig! That _is_ my favorite composition after all." Those emerald eyes shot Roderich a quick look when she spoke that last sentence, before going back to Ludwig. Roderich hoped his face wouldn't give anything away. He could swear by the heat radiating from his cheeks that the woman would notice.

Elizaveta couldn't help but smile upon seeing the man blush. He was just so proud of his music after all.

"Is-is there anything I can do for you, Elizaveta?" Roderich stuttered out, trying to change the subject.

"Yeah, actually, I found an old looking dress on my bed. I was wondering what it was for?"

Roderich noticed Ludwig's shoulders tense. She had discovered it faster than planned. The lad was probably blaming himself again for not being discreet enough. But no need to worry! Roderich could use this to his advantage.

"Yes. I have little use for the gown anymore and figured you would be able to make good use of it today."

Eliza suddenly looked flustered. "Eh? You want me to use it? Are you sure? It's such a nice gown!"

"Not at all. It's an old thing. I want you to have it." Roderich mentally praised himself for his responses. If he had led the woman to believe the gown was new and expensive, she'd never wear it. She was much too used to being a servant for his liking. Well, he'd be fixing that soon now, wouldn't he?

Elizaveta hesitated for a moment before nodding.

"Thank you Roderich. I needed something like that today."

Roderich was a bit confused to her response, but brushed it off, putting on his best gentleman smile.

"Of course. Glad you like it."

Eliza followed up with another nod before departing back up the stairs.

Roderich watched as she disappeared from sight, and out of earshot. Suddenly his knees felt weak and he nearly collapsed, if not for using the piano for some support.

"Roddy! Are you alright?" Ludwig asked worriedly, jumping up from his spot on the piano bench, hands out to help him if needed. Roderich simply waved him off.

"I'm fine. Just a bit nervous. That's all."

Ludwig doubted him for a moment before accepting the answer, sitting himself slowly back down, releasing his own sigh as well.

"I was worried she suspected something." the boy admitted. Roderich nodded in agreement.

The two remained silent for a moment, simply trying to regain themselves. Once Roderich was ready he stood himself back up, throwing a glance at a wide eyed Ludwig.

"What are you waiting for? Start again!"

o00o00o00o

Everything was set up perfectly. Roderich mused over the beautiful table setting and how the sparkling porcelain complimented the silk table cloth. The soft orange candlelight illuminated the room perfectly as it reflected off the crystal wine glasses and the red roses set in a vase in the center of the long table. Dinner was ready and only needed to be served, which he'd have Ludwig do once the two settled themselves into their spots. He placed a bottle of French wine, which he had picked out especially for this night, towards the center of the table so that it stood out (but not too much).

He saw a figure enter the room from the reflection of his glasses. He turned, noticing Ludwig standing before him, clad in the suit vest and pants that Roderich had given him. His blond locks were carefully combed to the side, making the boy appear much more appealing and mature in Roderich's eyes. However, the wide, flustered look the boy gave him didn't go with Roderich's vision.

"Calm down Ludwig. Now did you tell Eliza to come down for dinner?"

Ludwig's blue eyes flickered between Roderich and the door. He opened his mouth to speak but then closed it again. Taking a deep breath and swallowing, he was finally able to reply.

"_J-ja_. I told her. But…but she..! The upstairs…!"

Roderich was about to demand the boy spit it out, but was interrupted when Eliza entered the room.

"Wow! This looks great! What's the occasion? Oh! Luddy! You look so adorable!"

Ludwig grimaced. But all Roderich was able to do was stare at her appearance. She wasn't wearing the dress. No no, that was wrong. She WAS indeed wearing it. Parts of it at least. She still wore the clothes from earlier. The white men's blouse she had borrowed was ruffled and covered in all sorts of colored stains. She still wore the trousers which were incredibly too big for her, and were now being held up by a strand of ripped green cloth. Her face was still sweaty and covered in dirt…and soot.. Why was there soot covering her? Was she cleaning the fireplace?

"Elizaveta…" Roderich was finally able to choke out, drawing her attention from the dolled-up blond and to him.

"The dress? What-what happened to the dress?"

Her lips formed a guilty smile. "Thanks again for letting me use it. I still feel bad about using it as net and rope material, especially when I still couldn't find those mice. All my traps have gone to waste.

It took another moment or so for Roderich to find his voice again.

"Mice? You…you used the dress as material?"

Elizaveta looked confused. "Yeah,, you said it was old and had no other use for it."

"Oh…" was all Roderich could mutter. He felt dizzy all of the sudden and took a seat at the table, placing a hand on his head. Why? Why had she thought he meant that? The dress was clearly new? Why did she believe him when he said it was old? And! And! No…no it didn't matter. It was just a dress. She doesn't need to be dressed up. As long as she is here, that's all that matters.

"Roderich?" she asked worriedly.

A removed his hand from his face and smiled calmly at her. He just needed to act natural. Be normal.

"It's fine. I'm just a little upset that you still didn't catch the mice." The mice? Is that what she had been doing all day? That was the first he'd heard of it.

"Let's just continue with dinner. Sit down, would you?" he sounded just as calm as ever, smiling coolly and motioning to the seat across from him.

Eliza smiled. "Of course!"

Ludwig made a nervous move towards the kitchen, but was suddenly cut off as Eliza passed him, heading towards the kitchen doors and not the table.

"Thanks for preparing dinner tonight Roderich! I didn't have time with how busy I've been today!" And with those words, she had disappeared into the kitchen. Ludwig was frozen in place, a small hand out in silent protest. He gave his cousin a confused look. Roderich was also frozen, staring at the door that she had disappeared into.

She wasn't the server tonight. Why was she the server? Is it because she usually was? Why couldn't she just relax? No no. It was ok. There would be the same outcome. She'd arrive with their food and they could relax and start their meal.

"Ludwig." Roderich muttered, giving him a sad look. "Change of plans. You'll start the composition now."

The blond nodded before rushing from the dining room, being sure to leave the door open to allow music from the piano to flow into the room.

Roderich took a deep breath as he heard the music begin to waft through the room, trying to calm himself. Eliza would enter the room and hear the composition which he wrote. She will sit down with their meals and they could continue with their specially made dinner, drink some of the fine French wine, and when they were finished, he had prepared her favorite cherry tort. He had already set them aside on plates and had hidden his mother's wedding ring in one of them for her to find. It would be perfect.

However, as Eliza entered the room and placed the food on the table before them, she listened to the music for a moment before shooting Roderich a glare. He flinched back, certainly not expecting that kind of look.

"Really Roderich? You're making Ludwig practice during dinner time? You can't force the boy to learn that fast!"

And with those words stomped out of the room. The music ceased abruptly and she returned a minute later with a confused Ludwig besides her. He gave Roderich a questioning look, but the pianist simply sighed, removing his glasses and pinching the bridge of his nose; unable to give any response.

"Here Luddy. You can sit next to me." Eliza told him happily, pulling up a chair next to her. She had already grabbed a plate of food for him and set up his spot.

Roderich was silent for the majority of the meal. He silently stared down at the food he had worked so hard to prepare, moving it with his fork more than eating it. Perhaps he should postpone his plans for a while. Maybe forever. Elizaveta was just so different than he was. He doubted that she saw him as anything more than just a friend or boss.

As Roderich let himself sink further into a depressed state, Ludwig and Eliza chatted happily at the other end. The preteen had been a bit quieter at first, only answering when she asked him a question, but as the meal progressed, he had seemly forgotten about their ruined plans and began to smile more.

Actually, now that Roderich really started to look at the lad, he looked a lot calmer, a lot more like himself than he had in a long time.

Roderich's dark, depressed mood began to clear up a bit as he watched the too interact. He hadn't been listening before, but now he noticed she had been entertaining Ludwig with a series of childhood memories that she had with his brother and with the young pianist. She spoke with such care at mention of the two men. Even when she was scrunching her nose in disgust or laughing about one of their escapades, it was clear that these memories meant a lot to her. Roderich began to listen earnestly, watching as her pink lips formed the words.

He also noticed at mention of his name, her emerald eyes would sometimes cast their gaze in his direction for a moment before returning to Ludwig. Her eyes: they have never looked so green, so intense and beautiful before. And her face, even when it was still covered in patches of soot and caked with dried sweat, it still appeared to have been sculpted by a Renaissance master.

Roderich felt his chest tighten painfully. He had to continue. It didn't matter if they night hadn't gone as he had hoped. He still loved her.

"Elizaveta."

The brunette ceased her rambling, glancing happily at him, waiting for him to speak.

"Would you like some dessert?"

Her mouth turned into a sly smirk and she curled her eyebrows. "Well of course. I always want dessert."

Roderich felt a smile tugging on his lips. He noticed her begin to rise but he beat her too it.

"No, it's alright. I'll get it."

He departed from the room, returning seconds later with three plates of the red tort, placing a plate before each of them.

Eliza nearly squealed in delight upon seeing the dessert. It was a pain to make, so Roderich rarely ever made it. Her green eyes connected with his violet ones, nearly radiating with excitement.

"No need to wait. _Guten Appetit_." Roderich chuckled as he sat himself back in his spot.

He waited for a moment before taking a bite from his plate, waiting for Eliza to find the ring. After a few bites from her and no ring, he shrugged it off, spooning a bite of the dessert into his mouth. _No problems here. I'm sure she just hasn't gotten to it ye-CRUNCH_

Roderich's hands shot up to cup his cheeks as his left teeth pulsed in pain. He quickly spat the metal object-or in this case- the ring, into his hand.

"Roderich? Are you okay?"

He nodded hastily, but his jaw still ached. He only hoped he hadn't cracked a tooth.

"I accidentally took a bite of this." he mumbled, holding the dirtied gold ring out in his palm. Ludwig gasped, placing his hands over his mouth as he knew what was coming. But Eliza merely knitted her brows in confusion.

"What? How'd that end up in your tort?!"

"Because it was meant to be in yours."

Ludwig's eyes flickered back and forth between the two adults. Elizaveta cocked her head, with a serious, but confused look on her face. Her green eyes going from the ring to Roderich as she processed the information. Ludwig could see the moment the puzzle pieces came together as her eyes went wide and her hand shot up to her mouth.

Roderich made a pained smile before getting from his seat and kneeling before the brunette, who was beginning to cry.

He took a handkerchief from the table and wiped the ring clean, before holding it out for her to see more clearly.

"I'm sorry it has taken so long for me to do this. But I love you, Elizaveta. Would you do me the honor of taking on my name and becoming my wife?"

Eliza squeezed her green eyes shut; trying in vain to stop any more tears from falling. She pulled her hands away from her mouth and sniffled loudly, trying to regain her voice.

"Yes!" she sobbed, her lips forming a smile as her eyes continued to overflow with tears.

"I'd love to!"

Roderich just managed to slip the ring onto one of her shaking fingers before she tackled the man in her embrace.

Ludwig laughed at Roderich's shocked face as he was tackled to the floor with his glasses flying from his face. But it didn't take long for him to return the embrace and wrap his arms around her. Although Ludwig did have to look away during the kiss. That kind of stuff always made him feel uncomfortable.

Upon seeing the couple's joy, Ludwig's chest suddenly began to ache for his brother's presence. This was their family after all. Gilbert had grown up with these two, and he wasn't here to share in their excitement. He felt his face burn up slightly, taking notice and hurriedly stopping the tears before they had any chance of forming.

Oh! That's right! Gilbert sent him something for this!

Ludwig cleared his throat loudly, catching the couple's attention. He removed a sealed letter from his jacket and held it towards the two, who were still seated on the floor.

"Gilbert sent this to me a while ago. Said to give it to you because of the tiny chance that you two would get hitched."

Roderich didn't appreciate the way the blond phrased that last sentence, but shrugged it off, knowing that he must simply be quoting the imbecile. He took the letter from Ludwig's hand, giving it a wary look before looking at his new fiancé. She gave a small shrug and humorous smile, obviously remembering the last one lined letter Gilbert had sent the couple.

Roderich broke the wax seal and carefully unfolded the letter, expecting the worse. Like before, the letter only contained a single line, which caused Eliza to release a sob filled chuckle.

"_I always knew I was the best man."_

**Is it weird how much I enjoyed writing the beginning with Ludwig's nightmare?**

**Apologies to PruHun fans. I had to do it. (and I wouldn't even count myself a fan of AusHun…it just seems natural.)**

**History:**

**Mentions of plenty of previous battles I already wrote about, and then some more.**

**(just took this info from my notes)**

***Things looking better with some Prussian victories Defeated Soubise's French forces and then routed a vastly superior Austrian force at the Battle of Leuthen**

***November 5, 1757: Battle of Rossbach / Prussian victory/ vs. France and Austria**

***November 22, 1757: Battle of Breslau / Austrian victory**

***December 5, 1757: Battle of Leuthen / Prussian victory**

***With these victories, Prussia once again gained a hold over Europe and a strong reputation of Frederick II. Established as one of Europe's finest soldiers and Frederick their General. However, now facing the threat of not only France, Russia, and Austria, but Sweden as well.**

***a combined force from smaller German states, such as Bavaria, established under Austrian leadership and threatened Prussian control over Saxony.**

***Russians withdraw from East Prussia, causing further relief. Fritz calculates no further Russian advancement until 1758.**

***Moves bulk of eastern forces to Pomerania to repel Swedish invasion. Within a short time, drive Swedes back, occupy most of Swedish Pomerania, and blockaded its capital Stralsund.**

***Dec 1757- June 1758 Blockade of Stralsund**

***Stralsund holds out and Prussians withdraw**

***With prodding from Frederick and British ministers' advice, King George II of Great Britain revokes Convention of Klosterzeven and Hanover is reentered into the war with new leader, Duke Ferdinand of Brunswick. (who was serving as a Prussian General previously. This guy was actually a Colonel at age 19! So Gilbert being young for his rank isn't total bull crap! :D )**

**(Also, the reason the British have Hanover, is because King George was actually German, and from the House of Hanover. So at this time, George II was king of both Britain AND Hanover. Pretty nifty eh?)**

***Over the winter, Ferdinand regroups his army and launches a series of offensives, driving the French back across the River Rhine. **

**1758**

***Siege of Olmütz(Olomouc) Frederick's forces tried to besiege Austrian city of Olmütz in Moravia invasion but faced stronger resistance than anticipated. Lack of supplies and an Austrian relief force approach caused them to abandon siege. **

***British troops arrive in Europe, forming an Anglo-Prussian camp under Duke of Brunswick**

***12 June, 1758, Battle of Rheinberg: Anglo-Prussian alliance vs. France. Indecisive battle.**

***23 June, 1758, Battle of Krefeld. Anglo-Prussian victory.**

***25 August 1758, Battle of Zorndorf, Prussian vs. Russia, inconclusive.**

***14 October 1758, Battle of Hochkirch, Prussian vs. Austria. Austrian victory.**

**There were a few battles and events that I wanted to hit and write a chapter on, but unfortunately time is a huge issue here. So had to jump to the most important stuff I have planned.**

**I know how courting and marriage proposals usually went during this time, and Roderich and Elizaveta are way off….but they are already an unusual couple.**

**Thanks for reading and if you have time, please leave a review! I read every single one of them, multiple times even! They just inspire me so much!**

** Thank you and good day, good evening, and good night!**


	11. Borsch served Cold

_11 August, 1759_

"Wow! This is awesome!" Gilbert exclaimed, his gloved hand fingering the metal cannon before him. It was slightly smaller than the usual cannon, and was probably made from a lighter metal. It was situated atop a small, two wheeled wagon, which would later be moved by horse.

"So it's official then? We'll be deploying a full unit of horse cavalry tomorrow?" Bachman asked, leaning over Gilbert to get a better look of the new weapon.

Gilbert nodded excitedly. "Man, what I wouldn't give to be the one in charge of these bad boys! Too bad I'm not in charge of cavalry."

"But everyone knows infantry gets all the action." Bachman pointed out.

"Yeah, and all the casualties." Gilbert snorted, standing up from his crouched position. "But it doesn't matter. This new artillery will help us immensely. Those Russians will definitely be shocked. They'll be expecting a cavalry charge, only to get themselves blasted by artillery. I overheard Seydlitz bragging earlier that the best riders can ride in, take position, fire, and fall back in only a minute."

Bachman gave an impressed whistle.

"Well then we better see a lot of cavalry support out there tomorrow."

Gilbert nodded. "From what I heard, they will be important in Frederick's plans. Why else would we incorporate this Horse artillery? Anyways, he's currently out with a squad, personally scouting the terrain. I have no doubt that this will be a sure win for us."

Gilbert paused as a grin slinked across his lips.

" And the sooner we get rid of these Russians, the sooner I can leave."

Bachman raised a questioning eyebrow. Gilbert easily read his face and before his friend could ask, he answered.

"I've received some time off for my cousin's wedding. It's taken a while, and I do owe a few Generals, but I managed to get a couple weeks."

Bachman couldn't help but notice the excitement radiating from his Colonel. From what he's heard, Gilbert seemed pretty close to his family, especially his little brother. With the constant fighting that's been going on for the last few years, Gilbert must be itching for at least a short visit.

"And so they are planning the wedding around your schedule then?" he asked as the thought hit him.

"Of course!" Gilbert laughed. "I'm so great, how could they do anything without me? It'll only be a small wedding of close family and friends, so it wouldn't be a problem at such short notice. Besides, I threatened that stupid, prissy cousin of mine, that if he did anything without me, I'd have to shove his glasses down his throat."

"A very effective threat, I must admit." Bachman chuckled.

"Yep! But that also means you'll have some responsibilities while I'm gone. Think you could handle that, Lieutenant Colonel Bachman?"

The blond felt his chest swell with pride by being addressed by his new rank, which he had obtained only a month before. He gave a toothy smile before answering, "Of course! Besides, if everything goes as planned tomorrow, we shouldn't have to worry about the Russians for a while. It should make things easy for me while you're gone."

Gilbert gave a hearty laugh as he gave the man a friendly slap on the shoulder.

"Good! I'd hate to come back from my vacation to see my entire regiment run into the ground. Better not let me down! Speaking of which, I want you to head back to camp now. Frederick will be back soon with his plans for tomorrows attack. Make sure the men are ready. I'm counting on you, Klaus."

Klaus nodded, giving Gilbert a proper salute combined with a friendly smile before departing.

Gilbert turned back to the wooden carts bearing the light weight cannons. He couldn't wait to see these things in action. All around him, cavalry and artillery men tinkered with individual weapons; making sure the weapons were of perfect condition and ready to be fired later, while others had their eyes busy checking over the wheels of the carts and the sturdiness of each one.

The rest of the camps were doing the same, getting whatever men they were in charge of prepared for the upcoming attack. Towards the beginning of July, they had gotten word of a Russian army forming in Posen. It was obvious that they were planning on crossing the Oder River and invade Bradenburg, which was the heart of Prussia. If Bradenburg was taken, the Russians would have a direct route to not only their capital, but nearly all Prussian cities and territories.

General Weden had been sent with his troops to halt Russian approach, but things hadn't quite gone as planned, and Weden was forced to retreat with heavy casualties. Once news of this failure reached the main Prussian army, which had been stationed in Silesia at the time, they quickly took appropriate action. They had met up with Weden's remaining forces, before continuing; crossing over the Oder River the night before. They had continued to march through the night before camping in a well hidden area not far from Russian positions at dawn.

Since then, while men prepared weapons, horses, uniforms, and themselves for the upcoming attack, Frederick had been busy planning the attack. Gilbert had been present when they found and questioned a local squire and even a forestry official, concerning the terrain. The men were of little help, forcing the king to make a personal reconnaissance of the area, and had yet to return.

Gilbert sighed, anxious to know what their plan of attack would be. But he knew he most likely wouldn't know until that evening. Once Frederick returned, he would most likely need the rest of the day to plan before announcing it to the Generals and other commanding officers.

He turned his back to the cannons and began taking the same path that his Lieutenant Colonel had taken back to their regiment. Suddenly he felt a droplet of moisture running down his brow, which he quickly rubbed off with his sleeve. He glanced up into the bright, blue sky, without a single cloud to block the sun's heavy waves of heat. Yes it was summer, but it was much hotter this last week than it had been in a while.

"Please don't be this hot tomorrow." Gilbert moaned under his breath as he walked.

o00o00o00o

Only an hour of marching, and Gilbert was already muttering a string of profanity at whatever deity had determined the weather for that day. He thought yesterday was hot, well, today had been much more so. He never thought he would ever want to remove his large Prussian blue coat so badly. It didn't help that the heat and light seemed to reflect itself off of his horse's white pelt and blinding his eyes.

He glanced over his shoulder to the men marching steadily behind him. They were clearly not taking the heat very well either, and yet they trudged on. A determined look on every face he glanced at. This caused his chest to swell with pride. It would certainly be tough, fighting in such heat, yet he had no doubt the Russians would feel the same, if not worse. Besides, he and his men had pushed through all sorts of obstacles these last few years of the war. They wouldn't let a little heat get the best of them!

The march continued for another hour or so and Gilbert's eyes were beginning to get bored with the dry, sandy terrain, yellow grass and rolling hills. Instead, he passed the time daydreaming. He began by imagining the battle which awaited him, watching as the Russians shrunk back under their attack. Then once the Russians retreated, Bradenburg would be safe.

His mind slowly drifted from the war; from victory, and instead shifted to envision a young, blue eyed blond boy, running into his open arms as their long awaited reunion finally arrived. Gilbert chuckled to himself. He could only picture Ludwig as the little 10 year old he had been when he last saw him. He had undoubtedly grown since then, and Gilbert was a bit anxious to see just _how _much that was.

Gilbert was shaken from his thoughts as the marching suddenly came to a halt; having to quickly pull back on the reigns to keep his horse from continuing forward. As soon as they stopped, the soft rustling of fabric and clanging of metal from thousands of men dug in their packs for their canteens and lustfully pulling the liquid down their throats. Gilbert followed suit, taking a few, soft gulps of the liquid, moistening his dry mouth and chap lips. It took all his strength not to viciously swallow the whole of the container right then. He knew he would need it later. All well trained soldiers were taught to ration their water. After all, they still had an entire battle ahead of them in this ferocious heat. Gilbert felt a twinge of worry as he noticed some of the sweat soaked, flushed faces of his men, praying that none of them were suffering from heat stroke.

Gilbert perked up to the steady tromping of horse hooves, turning to see a group of horses riding towards him. Gilbert nearly fell off his horse in shock as he noticed it was the king himself, along with a few of his escorts. Even if his regiment was currently in Frederick's charge, he hadn't expected the man to come and relay his orders himself.

Gilbert straightened his back and saluted as Frederick stopped his horse before him.

"Your Majesty!"

Frederick wasted no time to get directly to the point.

"The Russian lines are stationed atop a series of hillocks stretching diagonally from us. We are currently stationed to attack the main body and right flank of the Russians. However, I overlooked to notice a series of large ponds along the Russian front, which would greatly limit our maneuvers. Fink and his men will remain on the north positions, and I have Seydlitz's cavalry ready to attack from the eastern front. We, however, need to change our position to attack the right flank.

"Their right flank is currently stationed atop and along the ridge of Mühl-Berge. We'll scatter their forces with heavy artillery fire, and then we'll take their position with an infantry charge. If we succeed with this, we'll have destroyed a quarter of the Russian line and gain a valuable position for our troops."

Gilbert felt his lips widen as his King relayed the plan. Moving his men at the last moment would be tricky, but he could manage. He just couldn't wait to put this plan into motion.

"One more small detail." Frederick began again, his eyes staring steadily and lips forming a straight line, hiding all emotion from his face.

"We had received earlier word that an Austrian contingent had been sent to reinforce the Russian lines. We had attempted to block off their route, but apparently failed, as they were successful in joining."

Gilbert frowned. Why did the Austrian's have to ruin everything?

"However, they have positioned themselves along the right flank, and so they shouldn't pose any threat to us here. They shouldn't be able to prevent us from over taking Mühl-Berge, but keep your eye open for them."

Gilbert bowed his head politely in understanding as he mulled over this new information he'd received.

Frederick let his blank mask crack a tad as the edges of his mouth raised into a sort of prideful smirk.

"I'm expecting great things from you Colonel. You're well on your way to becoming a General someday, possibly even a Field Marshall."

Gilbert's shoulders tensed and his fingers began to fidget with the reigns as a flustered smile overtook his once serious face. He even felt his face heat up a bit at hearing such words of praise.

"Ah, well..Thank you sir!" He managed to choke out, his eyes flickering away from Frederick's gaze for a moment. Frederick snorted humorously. For a lad who seemed to breathe for attention, he had a surprisingly hard time at accepting such high praise.

The humor suddenly dissipated from Frederick's face as he regained his composure; snapping the reigns of his horse and riding back towards his position, his escort fast behind. Now was not the time for chatter. He had some infantry columns he needed to rearrange.

o00o00o00o

It all started so fast. Columns were repositioned, guns taken from men's backs and placed in hands, and artillery beginning to fire. The Russians had been more than a little surprised, as they had not anticipated the Prussian's last minute change in position. Gilbert's eyes scanned over the scene as the lines of artillery ahead of them; a crooked smile forming as he watched lines of red uniformed, green coated Russian infantry men scatter.

The Russians situated their guns along the front of their lines, beginning to blast their own holes into the Prussians. However, although the Russians had the advantage of the higher ground, it was quickly obvious which side had the most guns. Russian fire did nothing to shake the Prussian attacks or scatter lines. Although Gilbert had to admit he felt a twinge of disappointment of not being able to see Frederick's new horse artillery in action, as they were acting to support the cavalry. He would have to get Seydlitz to show him later. That man always did like to show off after all, especially when it came to his ability riding a horse.

Once the Prussian guns and cannons had scattered enough of the Russians, Gilbert felt it was time for him to join in. Like always, he raised his saber and hollered for his men to march forward. The hot air mixed with the smoke of gunfire was a bit stifling, and the sun continued to beat them with waves of intense heat, especially as it hung directly over their heads now, but they still marched forward. The adrenaline of entering the battle fueled their heat-stricken bodies.

Artillery was repositioned as Gilbert led the infantry forward. He listened to the steady marching of feet with the occasional pause just before hearing the explosion of rifles firing, before more steps were taken. It didn't take long for them to reach the ridge of Mühl-Berge. The artillery had done wonderfully to destroy the Russian columns. It didn't take much effort for invade. The men still had ammo even by the time they charged. No need to waste good ammo when you could simply take their position now!

As soon as the Prussian lines collided with the green, Gilbert found himself racing towards the front. These last few years, many officers had voiced their complaints about Gilbert's tactics. They told him he needed to observe more, rather than throwing himself into the middle of charges, and potentially getting himself killed. But Gilbert never listened. After all, a proper leader fought with his troops right? Wouldn't that be true in _every _aspect of the fight?

Just as Gilbert rode atop the ridge where his men fought, he leapt from his horse, landing sturdily on the ground. He wasted no time in slapping his horse away as he marched forward, men already gathering behind him. His hand grabbed hold of a young Russian soldier's green coat, who dared had his back to him as he faced another soldier. It took little effort to pull the man back, earning him a startled yell as he threw the man into the dirt. Gilbert didn't even bother to cast his eyes back on the soldier, as he unsheathed his saber , doing what he did best.

It was almost too easy to press the Russians back from the ridge they had once claimed as their own. Guns continued to fire and the metal of clanging batons sounded like music, praising the Prussian's victories. One man dared break through a line of Prussians and charge; his baton aimed at Gil's chest. Sword in hand, Gilbert slid the blade against the sharpened metal and side stepped the man, causing him to loose his footing and stumble forward as Gilbert slashed his legs, preventing the man from attacking again anytime soon.

As time passed, the Prussians gained more progress. Finally the fighting began to die down as wounded Russians fled from their positions and abandoning their fallen. Gilbert's smirk widened as he watched them retreat. Oh how he enjoyed seeing the backs of men, fleeing before him. A sudden flash of red suddenly caught his attention, and he turned his sights to it.

Along the dry, trampled ground sat a large, tattered crimson cloth. Gilbert marched to it, carefully grasping its frayed edges and lifting it up to see. His eyes went wide and he nearly laughed as his eyes came upon the golden, two-headed eagle insignia. Three crowns floated above the bird's heads and their talons grasped hold of an orb and scepter. Atop the bird's breast sat a red shield, depicting a horseman slaying a dragon.

He'd never seen it in person, but he could definitely recognize the Russian coat of arms. He stood up, the fabric still tightly clutched in his fist. He turned his head to look off into the distance. He could clearly see the streaks of green in the distance, which he knew to be the remainder of the Russian army, unable to assist their fallen right flank.

Gilbert laughed, letting the flag fall back to the ground. In such dry weather, all it took was a single spark from the flint and the red fabric was set aflame. Men who had watched their Colonel began whooping and cheering as the bright red and cold shriveled into an ugly black.

"_Mühl-Berge _is ours!" Gilbert exclaimed, receiving the shouts of even more men. Gilbert laughed in delight. That's all they needed. They had taken a critical Russian position along with decimating their infantry and taking or destroying a good portion of their artillery. They would be foolish to attempt to strike the Prussians again.

Sweat rolled down Gilbert's cheek and his body began to feel heavy as the last of the adrenaline in his veins began to wear off. He noticed it in the faces of most of his men. The heat had taken their toll on them; zapping the energy from them after such a feat.

He wanted to sit down and rest, but knew now was not the time. Though they had potentially won, the Russian army still waited less than a kilometer away. They were still on the battlefield after all. Some officers rode through the lines toward him, one holding the reins of a second steed, it being the very horse Gilbert had slapped away earlier. He halted before Gilbert, handing over the reins to the Colonel. Gilbert nodded in gratitude before slowly hoisting himself atop the beast.

"So what's next? We wait for the Russian's to pull back?" Gilbert asked, removing his hat from his head to provide his head to cool off.

The officer frowned, shaking his head. "No. We are to continue our attack from here. We are currently moving our heavy batteries to take new positions here, where we will prepare for out next strike.

The victorious grin Gilbert had once been sporting vanished and his brows narrowed. His red eyes stared at the officer questioningly.

"What? But we've already won. What's the point of another strike? We've taken out nearly a fourth of their infantry!"

The officer didn't shrink from Gilbert's hard gaze as he answered back just as bluntly.

"His majesty intends to fully drive the Russian's out. He wants to prevent them from ever entering Brandenburg again. There is also the possibility that we can drive Russia out of this war."

Gilbert bit his lip. He didn't want to argue with his king's orders but…

"My men are tired! I don't know if you've noticed or not, but it's freaking hot out here!" Gilbert snapped.

The man's gaze hardened, like he knew something that Gilbert didn't.

"We know. The King knows. He has a plan, Colonel. You should obey his orders."

Gilbert glanced away, shaking his head wearily. He didn't like it. Not one bit. Yet instead of arguing with the man further, he mentally smacked himself for arguing; for thinking ill of Frederick's orders. If they could take out the Austrian's most powerful ally, then they should!

"I understand." Gilbert responded back, not completely able to remove the irritated glare from his eyes.

The man gave no sign of noticing Gilbert's contempt. He simply gave a curt nod before departing from him, most likely to report back to the Generals. Gilbert watched him depart for a moment before riding back towards his men, barking out orders to get them back into positions. His voice was harsher than he intended, shocking a few of his men. He noticed another man riding up beside him, recognizing Bachman immediately.

"What's going on, Gil-Colonel?"

Gilbert sighed, reaching for his canteen which was thankfully still strapped to the horse and taking another few gulps; moistening his dry, sore throat before responding.

"This battle is far from over, Klaus."

o00o00o00o

The explosions of cannons once again filled the air as battle commenced, firing upon the next line of Russians from their newly acquired positions. However, unlike before, the Russians were fully prepared for a strike and were able to shift their forces to accommodate, and so the artillery had little effect compared to earlier. They also seemed to have brought more guns forward and set them along the ridge that their men were lined along

Gilbert carefully led his horse down the dry slope of Mühl-Berge. His horse nearly stumbling a few times as its hooves rolled forward with little traction on the sand. He growled in frustration as the situation vaguely reminded him of that muddy terrain in Prague, except rather than the ground being too moist, it wasn't moist enough.

He glanced over his shoulder, watching as his weary men marched as orderly as they could down the sandy slope. Their faces were flushed and he could easily see many of them were panting. Some already had to be dragged away after passing out do to dehydration or heat stroke.

Gilbert soon found himself taking in a deep breath. The heat was getting to him too. He had to stop thinking so negatively.

It wasn't until Gilbert and his regiment had reached the bottom of the slope that the realized how narrow it was. They were pretty much in a valley which separated the two higher positions of the armies. He felt his heart beat speed up as he glanced around frantically. They'd be at a disadvantage if they fought in such a tight area. It wasn't large enough for his plus the other infantry regiments. They'd either be too packed if they stayed, or too spread out. Either way, it would make an easy target if the Russians noticed.

It was as if fate hated him, because just as those thoughts ran through his head, Russian infantry began to march into the valley, while others set themselves up in columns outside it, raising guns and firing. Gilbert flinched as a bullet collided with the top of his hat, knocking it from his head. It hit the dry ground at the exact moment as men around him did.

Gilbert released a bitter growl as he realized there was no longer a way out of the situation. They had no choice but to march forward as usual, praying that the artillery shots and cavalry charges would be enough to press the enemy back.

A heavy rain of bullets began to rain upon them, knocking men quickly to the ground, releasing loud cries of pain.

"Don't pull back! We must press forward!" Gilbert rallied, unsheathing and his sword and pointing in their intended direction.

"Fire! Take them down!"

Despite the heavy fire they were under, his men obeyed, taking positions and returning fire.

It didn't take long for Gilberts ears to ring painfully what with the constant explosions of gun and cannon fire. Both sides simply continued to fire, knocking men from both sides to the ground. It was getting them nowhere. In fact Gilbert could swear the amounts of Russian's were growing as they filtered themselves further into the battle.

His hopes raised the roaring thunder of hundreds of hooves began to echo through the valley, entering the fray and attacking from the Russian's right. Guns thundered and Russians fell, but it was short lived as a large group of wild looking Russian men rode in with spears, colliding with their own cavalry. Despite the hot weather, they were dressed in raggedly leathers and furs, rather than any proper uniform, with scraggily beards and tall furred hats. Their horses appeared just as wild and unkempt as the men did with their manes long and tangled.

"_Scheisse_! Gilbert swore as he watched their cavalry support quickly falling. This would probably be the best chance he got. He needed to charge while their dwindling cavalry had their attention.

"Bayonets!"

His men obliged, pointing their bayonets and charging forward. The attacking Russians were able to fire a few more rounds upon them before they were forced to put up their defenses. Metal clanked and men screamed as the metal sliced through them upon impact. And then, just as they did earlier that day, the fighting began. Other infantry regiments continued their marching and firing from a distance; being pelted by far too much gun fire to be able to come into physical contact with their enemies.

Gilbert had just begun to swing his legs off from the horse when a string of bullets sliced through the air around him, zooming just passed his head. Without any sort of thought, instinct took over and he dived from the creature's back before another family of bullets fired in his direction. He didn't plan his dive well as he'd hoped as he landed hard on his shoulder before rolling a few times over the dry ground.

As if timed, he roughly hit the ground just as a pained neigh escaped from the white mare's throat and it too fell roughly to the earth. Its head flailed nervously as it attempted to stand, but with the blood pooling from it's thigh, Gilbert doubted it would anytime soon. He would have immediately cared for the beast if what not for his current circumstances. Not only was he in the center of hell as cannon balls crushed and bullets sliced men around him, but he'd been identified! Those last shots had consisted of far to many shots. He was already being aimed at as a commanding officer.

Not wasting another second, Gilbert picking up an abandoned rifle next to him, and charging just as if he was simply charging another straw, practice dummy at home, he stabbed the sharpened metal straight through the back of an unsuspecting Russian. Not losing a second, he slammed his foot against the fallen man's back as he retracted the weapon, then ramming the butt of the rifle into collar of a man to his right.

He managed to stab a few more men and firing into the stomach of another before he tossed the rifle aside and retrieved his beloved blade from his side. As he fought, he noticed how chaotic things had become. Before, his men always remained organized. Even during a physical assault, they'd remain in a sort of formation as men backed each other up. Especially when he entered the fray, men would automatically form a sort of square around their Colonel as to prevent him from being mauled from all sides. However, the only men who even seemed to pay Gilbert mind was the enemy, as he still found himself a target of attacks, while his own men didn't seem to see him. Or see anything in fact. He could see it on their faces; they were panicked. They weren't positioned and they weren't defending each other. They were frantically fighting for their own lives. To be able to see another day.

Gilbert scowled angrily as he blocked the bayonet of a charging Russian and ramming the toe of his boot in the man's gut. For the superior, carefully trained Prussian army to become so sloppy, so scattered, so terrified….it was disgraceful to say the least. Thankfully, Gilbert had plenty of soldiers to take his anger out on, or he feared he might have lashed out on his men.

Of the cacophony of guns, explosions, and voices, one harsh scream echoed off the canon slopes, reaching Gilbert's ears. He perked up confusedly; glancing in the direction confusedly. He didn't know the voice, so why did it stand out amongst the screams around him. Another pain-ridden scream and Gilbert was able to identify the scream's owner, who was currently collapsing to the ground at the feet of another man.

Gilbert felt his blood freeze over as his red eyes locked onto this man. He was exceedingly tall, possibly taller than his old man, with a large build. Like the rest of the Russian's he wore the crimson breeches and shirt, adorned by the dark green coat, but he also wore the distinctive mitre cap atop of his light blond hair and a large brass plate over his chest. A Grenadier no doubt, which were always the strongest of the troops. He was also adorned with a few extra uniform decorations, which although Gilbert couldn't identify their meaning, he knew this man was of a higher rank.

These details weren't what caused Gilbert to lock on to him however. Instead, what made Gilbert's blood freeze was the man's face, adorned with a wide, childish smile as he bashed the head in of another unfortunate soldier. It made Gilbert feel uneasy, yet his blood also began to boil. This Russian was enjoying this. Sure, Gilbert loved the thrill of the fight, but that was because he loved winning. He loved the feeling of overcoming his enemy. But this man was much different. His thrill came from the bloodshed; from the suffering screams which tore from his victims throats, from the faces contorted with pain.

Violet eyes connected with his for a moment as the man noticed him from the distance. He simply smiled wider as he took down another of Gilbert's men, stabbing them through where he knew they wouldn't die quickly, but instead would lie hopelessly on the ground, waiting to either bleed out or be trampled.

Gilbert didn't notice his knuckles turn white with how hard he was clutching his weapon, and his arm shook with fury. His legs, which had previously been frozen in place, were suddenly moving. He paid no mind to the men around him, as he was only focused on this one. The Russian had broken off the eye contact in favor of a new victim. The Prussian soldier was quickly on his knees, protectively shielding a bleeding shoulder as he could do nothing but wait for his death at the hands of his huge attacker.

The Russian swung a large, dented, metal pole down, waiting to hear the loud crunch it'd make upon impact, but was instead surprised when it clashed with metal instead. The wounded Prussian winced at the sound before he realized he felt no pain. He cracked his eyes open to see the back of his Colonel before him in a defensive position; sword drawn and blocking the pole originally aimed to take his life.

"You're no longer in any use to us in that condition. Get yourself out of here!" Gilbert growled, digging his heels into the ground under the weight of the Russian's weapon.

The man nodded franticly before getting swiftly to his feet and retreating from the fight. Gilbert was far too engrossed with his enemy to notice the flash of worry that filled the man's eyes as he took one last glance towards his superior.

Gilbert growled as he gathered up his energy to push the Russian back, freeing his sword.

The man's smile disappeared for a moment as his wide violet eyes stared at Gilbert's. He didn't look angry or put off at all. In fact, Gilbert suspected that look was….curiosity. The childish grin soon reclaimed its place on his face.

His lips parted as he began to speak strongly accented German, laced with his own language.

"So you want to play, да?"

The happiness in his voice almost made him sound like a child who merely wanted to play a game of tag. It made Gilbert shiver and his stomach churn in disgust. However, to his surprise, the Russian threw the metal pole to the ground soon after speaking. Gilbert raised an eyebrow slightly, but didn't for one moment break his defensive stance or loosen his tight grip on his sword.

"What's your name, little Prussian?"

Gilbert pursed his lips, as if going to question the man's own question, but he remained silent. The Russian shrugged; not the slightest bit of disappointment crossing his face.

"Ivan Braginski."

"What?" Gilbert questioned.

"My name." Ivan continued to smile.

Gilbert growled. What on earth was this man thinking? He was absolutely crazy!

Not taking another minute of this nonsense, Gilbert lunged at Ivan, his weapon poised to end the man in one stroke. However, it never did reach the man as it clanged against the steel of another blade. Ivan chuckled as he calmly held his sword before him, blocking Gilbert's blow. Gilbert's eyes widened in surprise. He hadn't even seen the man draw his sword! How the he..!?

Ivan arched his back slightly so that his face was level with Gilbert's.

"Let's see who the better fencer of the two of us is, shall we?" he whispered, his eyes gleaming maliciously.

Gilbert let himself be overcome with a ferocious grin. He wanted nothing more than to see those eyes filled with contempt and shame at being beaten.

"Fine by me." He agreed, as swords suddenly retracted before clashing once again.

o00o00o00o

Frederick stood alone atop of a small hill, arms folded and rapier stuck in the ground before him as he watched the chaos unfold around him. Hours had passed since the battle had begun and already the sun was low in the sky, preparing to disappear in another hour or so. The temperature had cooled a bit as well, but it did little to raise any man's spirits. General's Fink and Seydlitz had warned him to cease the attack once _Mühl-Berge _was taken, yet he hadn't listened. He hadn't been satisfied with simply causing the Russian's to retreat. He wanted a decisive defeat. He wanted them out of this war. However, despite his previous engagements against Russian forces, he had underestimated the Northern armies.

Frederick had sent his infantry across the _Kuh-Grund _that lay between the _Mühl-Berge _and the next Russian redoubt in the line. However, the Kuh-Grund proved to be a narrow sandy valley, making movements difficult for the men. The Russian's had taken full advantage of Frederick's miscalculation, drawing in a substantial amount of men and guns to attack the Prussian infantry which was stuck on a narrow front.

He had brought up more infantry for support, along with small packets of cavalry, but it soon proved fruitless as they were countered by not only the Russian cavalry, but also the Austrian. More cavalry were led into the fray and were able to hold back the combined enemy cavalries for a time, but they were later pushed back. Seyditz had been injured, but thankfully was able to leave the battle as a whole. Frederick also heard news of Major-General Puttkamer being struck down while leading his regiment of White Hussars.

As a last act of attack, a giant cavalry charge was initiated. But that too led to ruin, as Russian guns took out the dragoons and the cavalry were scattered by Austrian charges. Seeing that they were making no ground, men began to break off from position and flee. Those brave enough (or foolish enough) led their own small groups back into battle, determined to turn the tables and break the Russian's defenses, but they all failed.

Frederick didn't even bat an eye as men ran and rode fearfully passed him. He didn't even seem to care when he noticed the party of Cossacks pointing him out and begin riding up the hill towards him. He kept his ground. This was his fault after all. Failure here meant the fall of the Kingdom he had worked so hard to build. He would hold this now non-existent line of defense himself or die trying. He tried not to dwell on it, but he knew it would be the latter.

His tired gray eyes watched carefully as the Cossacks approached him, taking notice of their rough and wild appearance. Frankly, he was surprised the Russians had even incorporated such ruthless thugs into their forces. They were powerful, that was known. But they were also known for their disobedience towards superiors as well as their habit to pillage, whether it be friend or foe, dead or alive.

One Cossack stopped his horse before Frederick, muttering unrecognizable words to his companions while a dirty, toothy grin adorning his face. And why not smile? The brute should be thrilled to have captured the Prussian king. Frederick was sure Maria Theresa would pay a hefty price for his capture.

Frederick inhaled a deep breath, preparing himself for anything at this point. Suddenly both he and the Cossacks were assaulted by horse hooves and angrily hollers.

"Your Majesty!"

Gunfire commenced, felling one of the Cossack men and causing the others to rear their horses back as they pulled out their own weapons. Frederick immediately recognized the decorated red coats of the men around him, adorned in furs with their tall brown caps as a group of Zieten's hussars.

A short game of gunfire started among them, the hussars clearly outnumbering the slowly retreating Cossacks. The hussars strategically began forming a square around their king. However, it was still incomplete as one stray bullet found its way through, and Frederick a large weight in his left breast as he was knocked from his feet, back hitting the ground.

He heard the cries of the men around him and more gunfire, while he simply stared at the cloudless, pink sky above him. So this was how he was going to die? Seemed appropriate. The mistake that killed Prussia would also kill him as well.

Voices grew nearer and clearer. It wasn't until he noticed the faces staring worriedly above him that he realized that there was no blood. His back ached from the fall and his chest stung, but only as if bruised.

"Your Majesty! Are you alright?!" The man at his side, who he soon recognized as Captain Prittwitz, a man under Zieten's command.

Frederick grunted as he sat up, pushing off the worried hands that fussed over him. He groaned a reached for his chest. He had certainly been struck by a metal ball, as it left a whole in his uniform; however, it had gone through his pocket, and stopped. He reached his hand into his breast pocket, retrieving a dented tobacco tin, with the metal ball still buried into it's center.

Frederick couldn't help but give a sad but amused grunt. So he was meant to live through his mistake huh? Was he being forced to watch the end of his nation?

"My King! We must leave immediately!" Prittwitz pleaded, grabbing hold of Frederick's arm and hoisting him to his feet with the help of another hussar.

Frederick didn't respond as he glanced wearily at the Captain. He was tired. Mentally and physically. He didn't want to leave. He needed to protect his nation. But he was still wise enough to know when it was a hopeless fight. He nodded and was quickly presented with a horse, which he promptly saddled.

Not a second later and they were riding off. Back towards the Oder River with the Hussars surrounding protectively. There were still men back there. Still fighting. Some running, but some were still determined to win. Anguish overcame Frederick as he continued to flee from the dry battle field, stained with his men's blood.

o00o00o00o

Gilbert side stepped a lunge from Ivan as he lunged his weapon towards him. He then promptly spun around, attempting a counterattack at his waist, only for it to barely be blocked by the Russian's blade. Ivan still had that cursed smile upon his face, but it gave Gilbert pleasure to know that it was now merely a farce. A mask to hide his frustration.

Ivan's strokes had power, far more than Gilbert could ever put in. Yet they were slow. He had started the duel with quick, powerful stokes which Gilbert could barely match, but it soon became apparent that the mammoth could not control such power. With every lunge, every strike, he was throwing away energy which could have been saved. As a result of such waste, his moves were becoming slow and sloppy.

Gilbert's trademark smirk formed on his lips, and it only widened as he could sense the Russian's irritation growing due to its presence. Ivan's eyes glittered angrily and he lashed out again. Gilbert easily parried the blow, causing a shocked Ivan to stumble backwards. The Prussian wasted no time in lunging forward, swinging his sword into Ivan's. The sudden attack caused Ivan's grip to loosen and the sword slipped from his fingers, landing on the ground with a soft clank a few meters away.

Gilbert swung his saber upward; the blade tip paused just above the Russian's throat, waiting to finally get a taste of his blood. Ivan's eyes widened in surprise, eyes focused on the blade before him. Just the slightest movement and he could very well be dead.

Gilbert allowed himself a few throaty chuckles as he poised his weapon, eyes gleaming victoriously as Ivan raised his hands in surrender.

"Thanks for playing." Gilbert snarled, as if he was a dog who had just proven his right as the alpha.

What happened next shocked Gilbert, causing his grin to fade. Ivan was smiling again. And this time, it was not a mask, but a genuine smile. The man had lost! Gilbert could cut his throat open at any moment, and he was smiling!?

A chuckle which made Gilbert's skin crawl, released itself from Ivan's lips.

"That was fun, Prussian! I do admit I was quite surprised to be beaten. No one has ever done that before."

"Interesting choice of last words." Gilbert commented coldly.

Ivan's smile widened more. So much that it no longer appeared as that of a child's, but was long and twisted, reminiscent to that of a crazed lunatic. His violet eyes gleamed as if he knew something Gilbert didn't.

"This game is not yet over."

Before Gilbert could even question his words, let alone run his saber through his throat, a nearby gun went off and Gilbert soon felt a strong force against his right shoulder. It felt as if a giant hand suddenly gasped his shoulder with a bone crushing grip before slamming his back into the ground. Gilbert's mind reeled as he was now facing the sky and a pool of blood was now steadily pooling around him, bubbling up like stream through the gaping hole in his shoulder. He felt numb with shock. He couldn't even feel the waves of pain that pulsed from the sliced flesh or the cracked bones. Or at least he couldn't until a giant boot slammed painfully onto the wound. Gilbert couldn't hear the crack of bones simply because he was screaming too loudly.

Ivan relished the pain filled screams, beaming happily at how it sounded in his ears.

Gilbert voice gave out eventually and he was left with his hands wrapped around Ivan's foot, desperately pressing up to relieve the pressure as he choked out painful gasps and grunts. His eyes glanced from the foot and up to its owner, wishing his hateful gaze could wound the man if he only stared hard enough.

Ivan clicked his tongue. "That's no good, Prussian. If I don't apply enough pressure, you'll bleed to death."

"Get…off!" Gilbert managed to wheeze out between labored breaths.

Ivan frowned slightly, retracting his foot ever so slightly. It wasn't much but it was enough for Gilbert. He used all his power to thrust the boot off of him and kicked his leg upward, hitting Ivan right in the stomach and causing him to stumble back a few steps. Gilbert took the initiative. He ignored the pulsing pain in his blood soaked arm and rolled to his stomach and getting to his knees. He grasped hold of his sword, which had been thrown aside when he fell, and spun back around to face his opponent. However, he was still not quite fast enough.

Ivan had recovered by then, grabbing hold of a fallen rifle and ramming the butt of it into Gilbert's ribs. He felt as if he lungs had popped with how fast his breath was gone, and he again found himself on the ground, desperately gasping to regain his lost breath. With how painful each gasp was, Gilbert had no doubt he'd busted at least a few of his ribs.

Ivan slammed his boot back on top of Gilbert's shoulder, warranting a few breathless cries from him, before another boot slammed onto his right calf with enough force to bruise the bone.

"That was naughty. How about I punish these legs of yours?"

Gilbert strained his head to look up, only for it to fall back again as he let out another throat ripping scream. Ivan laughed as he retracted the bayonets Gilbert's shin before sinking the metal even higher into the bleeding appendage.

Gilbert couldn't move. His mind was whirling around, unable to properly think as it was bombarded by the intense pain as metal cut through muscle like butter and splintered bone. He could no longer hear the cries and explosions of the battle lingering behind him. Instead, all that he could hear was his own cracking voice, and even that sounded distant and fake as his heart pounded rapidly in his ear. He couldn't even feel the tears in his eyes, running down his contorted face.

After what seemed like an eternity, the pain died down as Ivan retracted the bayonet after his 4th stab and dropped it next to him. Gilbert stopped screaming once the metal was no longer penetrating his blood stained leg. Yet he still couldn't move. The pain was too much. His mind calmed just enough to be able to finally register that Ivan was talking; asking him questions.

It wasn't hard for Gilbert to ignore his mutterings as he focused on not letting his spinning head to roll off his neck. Though suddenly, Ivan said something which grabbed his attention.

"Do you have a family?"

His eyes snapped to Ivan's face and his labored breathing slowed considerably.

Ivan's smile, which had fallen earlier do to the Prussian's lack of response to his previous questions, quickly found its place back on his lips.

"So you do! Are they waiting for you to return?"

Gilbert felt nauseous.

"Do you have a wife? Kids perhaps?"

No response.

"Not married then. How about siblings? A sister or brother?"

Gilbert's lips twitched unintentionally. The last word seemed to hang in the air; taunting him.

"Will they miss you?"

A small moan found its way through Gilbert's dry, parted lips. His eyes scrunching slightly and he was only barely able to spot the envious look Ivan gave him. He asked no more questions and stood up from his crouching position. Glancing around him, it was clear to Ivan that the battle was over. The field was littered with dead and bleeding bodies. Injured men ran about, fleeing in any direction they could. Lone horses trotted about with the blood of their riders staining their manes, tossing their heads to and fro as they were unable to collect themselves.

Ivan sighed, suddenly bored now. He tossed his gaze to the top of the ridge ahead of him, nodding his head for his sharp shooter to abandon his spot and approach him. The short brunette obliged, hoisting his gun to his shoulder as he scampered towards his tall comrade. His green eyes glanced at the bleeding Gilbert from behind his chin length brown hair.

"He's still alive. Are you going to let him bleed out?" he asked in an unwavering voice, obviously far too used to his comrade's actions.

Ivan shook his head, responding in his native tongue.

"I always finish what I start. But that would take too long. Pyotr would be angry if we linger. You go ahead and meet up with Eduard and Ravis. I'll catch up."

The brunette nodded before departing, careful to avoid running into any areas that were still fighting.

Gilbert couldn't care less about the departing man. In fact, he hadn't even noticed the man. His eyes were locked onto the sky above him, yet he was not looking at anything. All he could see was the young face of his brother. He could see those bright blue eyes, filled with laughter and excitement. He could also see them filled with fear and pain. He remembered sitting on the floor next to him, wrapping his arms around the crying boy, and lifting up the large black hat which swallowed his small head, revealing that tear stained face. He also remembered that promise he had made him. That he would always return. So many times he had promised his beloved brother that. Claiming he was far too awesome to die.

_Ludwig's not going to be happy with me. _Gilbert thought to himself sadly.

The click of a gun and Gilbert's eyes were suddenly staring into Ivan's again. His lips parted as he spoke words unheard by Gilbert. A loud bang as a pistol was fired and a strong pressure in his stomach was all Gilbert could register next, as his vision swirled rapidly around him and faded, taking the pain away with it and leaving him along in isolated darkness.

"It was fun while it lasted, little Prussian."


	12. Taste of Sauerkraut

"Gilbird? Gilbird! _Wo bist du_?" Ludwig called out as he searched his room for the yellow bird. The cage was usually left open, as the bird liked having its freedom. He tended to sleep in random spots in the room, creating make-shift nests with whatever materials were on hand, such as lone stockings or crumpled paper. However, it had always been easy for Ludwig to spot the creature. He was in none of his usual spots, and Ludwig found himself ruining his freshly made bedding as he searched even in places he knew the bird wouldn't be.

Under the bed? Nope. Atop the dresser? _Nein_. Inside? Still no. Ludwig sighed sadly as he sat himself down on his bed. With how tidy he kept his room, there were few places the bird could hide. Blue eyes drifted to window. He had left it open slightly in order to allow the warm room to cool during the summer nights. It was cracked open just enough for the small bird to slip through.

The young teen rolled himself over the bed and to the other side before plopping his feet to the wooden floor, taking the two steps it took to reach the window. He pushed the glass open further, sticking his head out as the warmth of the morning sun caressed his cheeks and a cool breeze ruffled his short, blond bangs.

"Gilbird!" He called out, cupping his hand around his mouth.

He didn't get much of a response, not that the teen really expected any. He noticed the calm swaying of the trees and grass, standing out against the azure sky. All he could hear was the rustling of branches and the songs and flutters of birds. Any one of those could have been Gilbird.

Ludwig frowned disappointedly, backing from the window and lowering himself again to sit on his bed. He still faced the window. He'd given the bird the freedom to leave ever since his wing healed all those years ago. Gilbert had told him to after all. He told him that the bird probably had a family, and that he shouldn't keep him captive. Yet the animal stayed. Not once did Ludwig not awake to the soft chirps of the bird as it perched somewhere in the room, whistling a calming tune as it stared at him with it's black eyes.

So now that he couldn't find the bird, does that mean he finally left? Three years and he's gone? There was always the possibility that the bird would be back of course, yet Ludwig still couldn't completely suppress the gloom that hung over him.

He shook his head, mentally berating himself for his unnecessary depression. Why should he be upset if the bird is gone? Didn't he want Gilbird to be free anyways? He was thirteen now; much too old to be worrying about a silly bird. However… he really had wanted the bird to stay. He wanted to show his brother. Show him how well he had taken care of Gilbird and prove how responsible he was. And with his brother coming home soon too!

He released another sigh, again wondering why his initial thought was that the bird was never coming back. Gilbird probably went out all the time! Of course he'd be back! He'd be back just in time for Gilbert!

Thoughts of his brother soon lifted his mood. Gilbert would be back soon after all! No doubt about it! His brother said so himself in his last letter a month ago that he was getting time off for the wedding. No one was sure exactly when that day would be, but they were ready.

The few needed wedding arrangements had already been taken care of, and now both Roderich and Eliza were simply waiting for their best man to show up. Even _Vater_ said he would be ready. It was easier for him to find time off, so it wouldn't be a problem for him to arrange his schedule to arrive with Gilbert. This last month had been the happiest, yet the most depressing month of Ludwig's life.

Each day started the same. His head would pop off the pillow, ready and eager for what awaited him during the day. He would continue with his usual schedule and studies, not being able to stop himself from glancing out the windows every ten minutes or so, searching for any hint of figure approaching the manor.

However, as the day ended, he'd suddenly be hit by an overwhelming cloud of disappointment. His stomach would churn and his head feel heavy. The anticipation that fueled him during the duration of the day would vanish and a frown would be plastered to his face. He found it hard to eat dinner and tended to even go to bed early. But then, just as the sun rose the next morning, he was up and eager again, even making up for his lack of appetite the night before during the next day. It was a tiring cycle, one which also made each individual day drag on wearily. Time had never before passed by so slowly for him.

Today as well, Ludwig knew it would be the same. He tried not to get his hopes up, but he couldn't help it. The more time passed, the sooner Gilbert would arrive. It could very well be today just as much as it might not, and that's what frustrated Ludwig the most. He wished he just knew when it would be! But knowing his brother, he wouldn't tell him when he would be there. Gilbert always did like surprising him, even when he politely told him (several times in fact) that he didn't want him to.

There was a brief knock at the door before it opened a tad and Roderich poked his head inside.

"Ludwig. Breakfast is….what happened to your room?"

Ludwig stared at his cousin briefly before he glanced over his room, just now noticing the mess he had made in his search for Gilbird.

"I was looking for something. I'll clean it up." the blond reassured, even though Roderich didn't need any. His younger cousin had always been good at keeping clean. He had merely been surprised that the boy was even capable of making a mess to begin with.

"I know you will. I'll have the food ready for you when you come down. Also, a message from your tutor arrived. He's unable to come today do to illness, so you get the day off."

Ludwig frowned. _Herr Müller _wasn't coming today? What else was he supposed to do then? Elizaveta was currently gone visiting her parents since her father was too ill to make it to the wedding. His studies had been the one thing to keep his mind off of his brother!

"_Ja. _Ok." he answered.

Roderich nodded before dismissing himself. Ludwig promptly stood up, starting by remaking the covers on his bed before picking up the clothes littering the floor and refolding them before placing them back into their respective drawers. Just as he finished, shutting the dresser drawer, his eyes instinctively wondered towards his desk. It was as organized as always except for the white sheet of paper lying atop, along with a feathered quill situated horizontally over it.

His brows furrowed as he clasped a few fingers along it's edge and pulling it to him, scanning over it. Why hadn't he thrown this out yet? Only about a fourth of the paper had writing on it, which he recognized as his own. He had begun his usual letter for Gilbert after Ludwig received his brother's response a month ago. However, only after a short time, he decided to stop. After all, Gilbert would be here soon enough. He wanted to save his words to tell him in person.

'_In person_'- the thought made an anxious chill run through Ludwig. He couldn't wait! How much longer would that idiot brother of his make him wait?! He puffed his cheeks irritably, yet he still couldn't feel much anger towards his brother. He was still far too excited.

He replaced the letter back on his desk, for some reason not even thinking about throwing it away, and he took one last look at his room. Nodding his head approvingly until he noticed one thing missing. He opened the top drawer of his desk, reaching his hand into a small sack cloth and fisting a hand full of its contents. Then taking another few steps to the window, he pushed the window open as far as he could before placing the fist-full of seed onto the sill. He was satisfied as soon as that was done, taking one last glance outside before departing from his room. Time to start the cycle yet again.

o00o00o00o

Other than piano lessons, Ludwig had nothing to do. Elizaveta wasn't there to entertain him, and Roderich…well, he'd never been one to entertain. Instead his stuffiness brought up memories of his brother mocking the Austrian. He had always scolded his brother for such rudeness, but now he desperately wished for it.

Ludwig had been so bored that he even asked Roderich what chores he could do around the house. Roderich obliged, but it only took so long for the blond to complete everything. Elizaveta had done well to keep everything clean already, added with the fact that the manor's occupants were pretty clean to begin with (well, at least Ludwig and Eliza were). Though Ludwig had learned something new that day.

After entering his cousin's room, he was surprised to find it in complete disarray with both soiled and clean clothes littered in all corners of the room. He had proceeded to pick up and fold the discarded garments, only to freeze when he noticed that a good majority of the clothing to be underpants! It had been the one room of the house that he vowed never to enter again as he quickly ran out of the room with flushed cheeks. Who would have known his cousin was such a slob. And…why so much underwear?

Ludwig trotted down the stair case slowly; his features blank as the misplaced anticipation wore off and was slowly being replaced by disappointment. Once his feet touched the wood of the first floor, he turned right, heading into the parlor and sitting himself on the couch, resting his chin along the back so that his eyes were looking out the front window behind him. His thoughts wondered once again to his absent brother.

The soft melody of Roderich's piano drifted into the room, soothing Ludwig's mind and making him feel drowsy. It didn't take long for his head to loll to the side and his lids give in to the heaviness and blanketing those blue orbs. If Ludwig had been dreaming, he couldn't tell you what it was, cause the minute his eyes jumped open to see a blond figure riding into the courtyard, Ludwig could care less about what he had dreamed about. He leapt from the couch and ran as fast as he could to the door, all the while shouting, "Roddy! Roddy! _Vater_'s here! He's here!"

Ludwig was too busy throwing the door open to notice the abrupt stop of the piano and his cousin following him towards the door.

Alvar had just finished putting his horse away in the stables. He was exhausted, both physically and mentally. The ride to Roderich's had never felt so long as he could do nothing to stop his mind from spinning. His feet felt like lead and it took extra effort to make each step. His limp had also worsened, and he didn't bother to hide it like he usually did. He wasn't sure what expression his face had frozen into, but it felt like stone; heavy and uncomfortable, yet he couldn't even form a crack in it.

His eyes focused on the ground just above his feet until a loud yell caused him to raise his eyes upward. He winced at the amount of excitement that the young voice contained. His chest throbbed painfully as he watched that familiar blond boy run towards him. Ludwig's face etched into a warm smile as he shouted eagerly to him.

"_Vater_!" Another throb as the scene reminded him too much of a time not too long ago when another child of his would run into his arms excitedly after his belated return.

Alvar hadn't even had time to lift up his arms as he was attacked by the boy, his arms wrapping his arms around his stomach. Two giant blue eyes looked up to lock with his.

"_Vater_! You're finally here!" he exclaimed, giving him another tight squeeze before releasing. His eyes broke off from Alvar's gaze and they danced around behind him. His smile hardly even faltered as he asked the dreaded question which caused a cold shiver to run down his spine. A question which part of him wondered himself.

"_Vater_, where's Gilbert?" Ludwig's eyes were watching him curiously. "He came with you, didn't he?"

Alvar opened his mouth to respond, but his tongue wouldn't move. His mouth felt dry, and the words he needed to speak grated like sand against his throat.

Ludwig raised a brow at his father's silence. Though his smile reclaimed its perch as the rolled his eyes.

"He's hiding in the stables again, isn't he? Stupid _Bruder_."

Ludwig turned, ready to run through the stable doors when a large hand shot out and grasped his shoulder, preventing him from moving.

"He's not there." Alvar was surprised how normal the words sounded as they came out.

Ludwig glanced back at him quizzically, and Alvar suspected his frozen expression may have cracked because his son's eyes suddenly widened.

"_Vater_?"

His grip tightened, and Ludwig had to suppress a wince. Alvar attempted to speak again, but his voice gave out. His gaze lowered back to the ground and he didn't notice that his arms were beginning to shake.

At that moment, Ludwig felt something inside him break and he stiffened. He didn't think his eyes could be any wider as he watched his strong, straight faced father completely break down. An old fear began to resurface within Ludwig's mind, but he quickly pushed it away.

The teen swallowed before addressing his father again.

"_Vater_? What's wrong? Wh-where's Gilbert? You said you'd come with him."

He didn't even notice his own arms begin to shake underneath his father's tight, equally shaking grip. Alvar shook his head sadly, eyes still refusing to look at him.

"He's not coming, Ludwig. Not anymore."

Despite the warm summer air, Ludwig had never felt so cold before.

"Did Fritz not allow him time off?" Ludwig asked warily as his mind twisted the meaning of his father's words for another. It had to be a misunderstanding! It had to!

"If he can't get time off, then when are we supposed to have the wedding? Eliza and Roddy have been waiting a long time for him to come!"

Alvar's grip tightened.

"Ludwig-"

"We can't have it without _Bruder_! Eliza promised we'd wait!"

"Ludwig, stop-"

"Why can't he come?! Where is _mein Bruder_?!"

"Ludwig! Stop it!" Alvar roared, his pain filled eyes finally meeting his sons. "Gilbert's dead! He's not ever coming back!"

Ludwig's body stilled and his mind whirled, trying to find any way to properly explain the meaning of those last words. Yet no matter how much he tried, no explanation could be given, and he refused to believe the obvious truth.

His head began shaking back and forth rapidly.

"_Nein. Nein nein nein_! Stop lying! Gilbert promised he'd be back!" Ludwig could hardly hear his own words, let alone notice how much they rose in pitch.

Alvar's mouth formed into a hurt scowl.

"Listen to me, Ludwig."

"_NEIN_!" he screamed, shooting his clenched fists to cover his ears. "Don't lie! You always lie, _Vater_! You said you'd take care of us! But you were always gone! Just me and _Bruder_! Stop it! JUST STOP IT!"

Ludwig's words stabbed at his heart like a knife, yet he set the pain aside. He needed to comfort his child. He reached out his other arm to grab Ludwig's open shoulder and potentially bring him into his embrace, but Ludwig slapped his hand away.

"Why!? Why did you come back, and not _Bruder_!?"

Another knife to the heart. Alvar's hand shot back from its grip on Ludwig's shoulder. The distraught boy wasted no time in turning away from his father and shooting back towards the house.

Roderich had been standing in the open doorway as a distraught Ludwig ran passed him into the manor. He didn't even bother to look at the child's face. He was stiff, back straight and fists clenched to his side as he stared in his uncle's direction. From his distance, he couldn't hear the conversation, nor see the details of his family members' faces, but he had heard the shouts, the screams, and the rigid stances. His heart felt like it was going to burst through his chest as the only possible explanation for these behaviors loomed in his mind.

He watched carefully as his uncle remained in his frozen stance, eyes facing the ground. It took a moment before he raised himself shakily as his heavy legs began to move again. Roderih hated at how the detail in his uncle's expression grew as he came closer. He would have removed his glasses from his face if his arms hadn't been ignoring his commands and remained stiffly by his side. Alvar's eyes didn't even seem to notice him as he began to limp slowly passed him.

"_Onkel_." Roderich managed to spit out, causing the large blond to halt in his tracks. Neither man evn looked at each other.

"Gilbert?" his cousin's name was all he could manage to choke out.

Alvar was silent and Roderich nearly missed the slight shake of his head before he resumed his corpse like walk into the house.

Roderich felt his lungs tighten, making it difficult to breath and he didn't notice when his body had begun to move again until he found himself back inside, seated stiffly on an armchair in the parlor. His clenched fists now rested on his thighs and already his knuckles had turned white. He was dazed, and couldn't even notice how his palms stung as his nails dug into the skin.

He didn't know how long it took for the spell to suddenly vanish. His body felt limp and his upper body fell forwards into his lap as he felt tears rolling from his eyes and landing on his lenses. His lungs shook as he breathed and he wrapped his arms around himself, trying in vain to gain at least some control over himself.

"You idiot."

o00o00o00o

Ludwig dashed into his room, not caring at how the door slammed loudly into the wall when he forced it open. He hardly slowed himself down enough as he jumped into his desk chair, resulting in it nearly tipping over with the force. His jaw clenched as he tried desperately to hold back the sobs and his hand snatched up the quill next to his half written letter.

_Vater's a liar! He always has been! I need to write Bruder! I need to ask Gil! Gil doesn't lie like Vater does! _His hand shook as he stabbed the quill too far into the jar of ink and brought its tip to the paper. Ink splattered and smeared messily onto the paper as he wrote frantically.

_Bruder where are you? Why aren't you here? Vater lied to me! He told me you're dead! But I know that's a lie! You promised you'd come back! You did! You're coming back! I know you are!_

Ludwig didn't even know what he wrote next, as his hand moved on its own to form whatever desperate plea controlled it. Even his eyes hadn't been so blurry, he probably wouldn't be able to read the rapid writing anyways. Whimpers escaped his clenched lips as he scribbled. He was late to notice when he needed to dip his quill again, leaving nothing but the indents of his thoughts copied onto the parchment. He slammed the quill into the jar again, knocking it over and spilling the thick black liquid over his desk and staining his forearms.

He continued to write, even after the whimpers turned into throaty sobs and tears began to stain the paper and smear the ink. It wasn't until a loud ripping noise permeated Ludwig's ears that he stopped. His eyes finally began to take in the mess he had made, lifting the quill which had managed to tear straight through the mutilated paper. He didn't know how long he stared at it before his throat clenched with a painful sob.

His face contorted and he couldn't stop the stream of tears running down his cheeks. He proceeded to wipe the tears away with his forearm, badgering himself that he shouldn't cry. He needed to hold it. Just like he promised himself. Just hold it in until Gilbert… His thoughts stopped there.

Gilbert wasn't coming back. He'd no longer be there to hug and hold him. No longer could Ludwig find the comfort of burying his face into the folds of his brother's clothes and sob while that calloused hand ran it's fingers through his hair, accompanied by that deep voice whispering softly in his ears. Asking softly for the tears to stop. Informing him that there was no reason to cry.

Ludwig felt his body curve in on himself as he wrapped his arms around his head. Shoulders wracking with terrible sobs, each rattling his chest painfully. His head ached as he attempted to fight off the new reality of his fears. He felt like he was going to throw up, but didn't have the energy to do so as he wasted it on his sobs.

After who knows how long, his sobs subsided and the pain his body felt vanished into a cold, numbing feeling. His eyes remained open half way, staring blankly over his arm but not seeing anything. The beat of his heart no longer pounded in his ears, and he began to wonder faintly if he was dead too. He hoped he was.

It wasn't until his body was suddenly lifted from his slumped position over his desk and into the air that he knew he was still breathing. He felt the thick, warm arms wrapped around his back and underneath his legs. His father's strained and heavy breath warmed the side of his face as he was slowly moved across the room, and lowered to the soft covers of his bed.

A giant calloused hand ran through his hair, reminding Ludwig so much of his brother's. Ludwig didn't react to the movements or actions. His body remained numb and limp as he stared into the distance. The only thing that moved were the tears which continued to wash down his face without any restraint.

Alvar sat himself along the edge of the bed, continuing his attempts to comfort his remaining child. He had no words to say; no words he could say that would help. He doubted his mourning son would even hear his words if he had any. He sat with Ludwig for a while as he cried his silent tears. It didn't take long for the silence to get to Alvar, echoing the words his child had screamed at him earlier and opening the wounds they had created.

It was his fault after all. He, though never openly, pushed his son into his way of life. Gilbert had showed interest, and he encouraged it. And now his eldest was dead.

He took in a shuttering breath, eyes glancing away from his youngest. How on earth could he even think he could comfort his child?! Just as Ludwig had said, Alvar had returned, while Gilbert did not. It wasn't supposed to be this way! Alvar was the one who was always gone! He was the one involved in these wars! Ever since Gilbert was just a child, he's been fighting! So how on earth had he managed to survive? How'd he manage to outlive his child?

Alvar shifted his weight to his feet, readying to stand up - to leave- when something grabbed hold of his shirt, holding him back. He looked back, surprised to see Ludwig's outstretched hand fisting his musty shirt tightly. There was no sign of him letting go anytime soon.

"Please don't leave me, _Vati_. Not you too." his voice was less than a whisper as he pleaded, locking his tear-soaked eyes with his. When Alvar didn't respond right away, the boy hiccupped and a few more pathetic whimpers passed by his lips.

"I'm sorry _Vati_. I didn't mean it. Please don't go."

Once those words were spoken, Ludwig broke out into another cacophony of painful sobs. His eyes shut tightly and his face contracted as if he was in serious physical pain.

Alvar couldn't _not _react to this. He quickly lowered himself back to the bed, this time hoisting even his legs atop the surface so that he too was laying on the bed. He wrapped his arms around the child and brought him to his chest. As if on instinct, Ludwig's fists shot up to grasp the folds of his shirt while he buried his face into that giant chest, muffling his pleading wails.

Alvar didn't make a sound. He made no attempt to shush the child. No attempt to tell him everything would be ok, because it wasn't. He buried his own face into Ludwig's hair, surprising himself as he noticed the short locks had become wet. It came as a shock to him as he realized that it was his own face that was wet, rather than the hair.

He was crying. He hadn't cried in years. Not since his wife passed away a decade earlier. And since then, he had begun to think that he could no longer cry. Perhaps it was the belief that nothing as terrible as his wife leaving could ever occur that made him believe he wouldn't cry again. Though he supposed he had never thought about the possibility of his son's premature death. No. That was a lie. He had always known it was a possibly, even feared it, but believing it was a completely different matter.

Even after learning of Gilbert's demise, he hadn't been able to shed a tear. He had held it all in, just as he did with most of his emotions, along with the reality of the news. However, with his last remaining child crying against his body, the reality of it all sunk in, driving a metal wedge into the dam. And with the crack in the dam, nothing could stop the waters from gushing out.

o00o00o00o

He needed to get out of here. Anywhere would suffice. Anywhere but here. At least, that's what Ludwig had thought towards the Edelstein manner. It started that day he awoke early that morning with eyes swollen, his father's tear stained cheeks, baggy eyes, ruffled hair, and the realization that his brother was dead. It was all too much for Ludwig to take.

The days that proceeded had been nothing but a blur. He remembered mentions of Elizaveta. At one point, he realized she should have been home by then. But Roderich had sent her a note, and she had yet to return. Ludwig could only assume that her lingering absence proved that the message had reached the Hungarian.

Ludwig couldn't remember how much longer they had spent with Roderich, but it passed by painfully slow, and yet so quick that it seemed as if time never really existed. All the blond knew was that he wanted to leave. There were too many places he could no longer go. The corner in the parlor. The stables. The empty bird cage in his room. And especially the room across the hall, still harboring it's last occupant's clothing and leaving even his scent to linger behind.

It hurt. The memories of moments that would never come again twisted his heart painfully, and he begged his father to take him away. Again, he wasn't sure how long it had taken, but one day Ludwig found his clouded eyes begin to clear and he soon found himself standing before the familiar Berlin manor. The manor both he and his brother had grown up in. Three years had passed since he'd last seen it, and it still looked the same as it did when he first left.

He felt his father's hand squeeze his own as they walked up to the house. Alvar broke the silence first.

"I already arranged for some maids to come by and clean out the dust, so everything should just be as it was before. We should have a full staff of housekeepers at the end of the week, but we can manage for now."

Ludwig did nothing but nod silently as the door was unlocked and opened. The teen thought he'd be okay. Thought it would be better to be back at home now. But the moment he entered through that plain black door, his heart skipped a beat.

True to his father's words, appearance wise, everything was exactly how it had been before, but that was the problem. It was just as bleak and dull as it was before appearance wise, which contrasted heavily with the bright, gaudy furnishings of Roderich's manor. Ludwig took a few steps inside, hoisting the suitcase full of his possessions he had brought back from his cousin's.

The house was the same, yet it felt differently. At first he had suspected it to be because he had been gone for so long, but he soon realized that that assumption was wrong. The house was too quiet. It was never quiet. Not when Gilbert was around to bring it to life.

A nudge from his father and Ludwig's wide eyes were on him.

"Go put your things away. I'll prepare something for dinner."

Usually just the thought of his father being here for dinner, let alone making dinner, would have made the young blond ecstatic. But he was in no such mood. Hadn't been in a while. Although, he supposed he should be happy. After all, _Vater_ had decided to retire so he could stay with him from now on. But it was still too much for him to accept.

Ludwig nodded and he began his way up the staircase towards his room. His heart began to speed up as the multiple family portraits came into sight. As soon as his gaze landed upon the painted figure of his brother however, he turned his eyes away. His jaw stiffened.

Walking down the hall did nothing to sooth the racing beat. He spotted the end table which Gilbert hit his head on after a night of drinking. He had knocked himself unconscious, leaving a flustered Ludwig to drag him to bed. His brother had complained about the welt on his forehead for a week.

Ludwig quickened his pace.

There's the wall Ludwig had painted on when he was younger; when he was too young to understand that it was bad. He thought for sure that his brother would punish him for it, but instead Gilbert had laughed and added a few of his own touches to the art. Though they did clean it up immediately afterwards of course! Gilbert could always make a mess, but he could never leave one (unless he was drunk of course, that was an entirely different matter).

His breathing picked up.

The dent in the wall when Gilbert had kicked it once in a fit of rage. Why he had been angry, Ludwig couldn't remember. But he'd mocked his brother for weeks about controlling his anger. He could always use that dent as a tool for mocking Gilbert.

Tears were beginning to breach and Ludwig found himself running now. His suitcase had been dropped somewhere along the way. He ripped open the door he'd remembered to be his room, slamming the door shut and resting his back to the door. He took slow, deep breaths in attempt to calm his crying heart.

He'd remembered his room to be a haven of sorts. It was his personal space after all, where he could be alone to think, or perhaps not think at all. However, since his enemy happened to be his own memories, this room did nothing to comfort him. But betrayed him, and it felt as if he'd be socked in the stomach from what he saw.

His legs shook and gave way, causing him to slide to the floor. Tears pooled from his eyes again and he placed his hands over his mouth to stifle the sobs. Everything in the room hurt him. The memories bombarded his mind, forcing their way into his head and making him remember.

Late night stories, pillow fights, breakfast in bed, wrestling. Too many times to count Ludwig could see his brother pouncing on him as he slept; ticking him awake while announcing that it was time open his eyes. Then there was the time Gilbert had him utterly convinced that there were monsters living under Ludwig's bed, and so he had to sleep in his room for protection. Once Ludwig had realized that there were no monsters in his room, Gilbert then proceeded to announce that they had moved under his, using that excuse to sleep in Ludwig's room instead.

Ludwig's legs curled in against his body as he trembled, back pressing against the door as if he could escape the memories.

"Gilbert…_bruder_. _Warum_? _Warum hast du verlassen?_"

His body felt heavy and he found himself tipping to the side until his wet cheeks were pressed against the carpet as he sobbed quietly. Begging to be somewhere else. Somewhere without any painful memories.

Ludwig hadn't even realized that he had fallen asleep until his heavy eyes opened; noticing how much dimmer it was in the room with the sun lowering in the sky. He sat up groggily, rubbing his sore eyes. He couldn't think quite right. He couldn't remember why he felt so awful, so he relied completely on instinct. Getting to his feet, he stepping out of his room, heading to the place he always went after waking from a nightmare.

Alvar found Ludwig soon after. He had been worried after Ludwig failed to return to eat. However, when checking his room, he was surprised to find it empty. A flash of fear shot through him briefly before a few muffled whimpers caught his ear. His frown deepened as he knew where the sound came from.

Sure enough, he found his son in a fitful sleep in Gilbert's room. With his arms wrapped tightly around a pillow, making up for the absence of the person who usually occupied that bed.

o00o00o00o

_17 August, 1759 (weeks earlier)_

Alvar stomped speedily through the chaos that made up the Prussian camp settled along the Oder River. Unorganized tents littered the terrain filled with the moans of the wounded. Every single man looked exhausted and some of them even frightened as they scuttled about, most of them carrying their own injuries as well. It was odd how the wounded cared for the wounded.

Men with bandages covering half their faces, or with their arms in slings, sat next to the cots of their comrades, administering medicine, wrappings or even comfort. Alvar silently winced at a few of the mutilated bodies he saw, some of them clearly on their death bed or dead already. He wanted to cast his gaze away from the destruction which came to the troops, but he couldn't. He felt sick as he imagined the possibility of seeing his son's body, bloody and laid out on a stretcher. However, that was also the exact reason why he couldn't look away.

He continued through the camp, eyes searching warily for his son, but also for a few other faces. He was technically here on business after all. His top priority was getting to Frederick, but he couldn't stop himself from searching. His face hardened into a frustrated glare. _Where are you, Gilbert?_

He was ready give up on his initial track for his king and begin searching the compound for his eldest when his eyes caught hold of a familiar figure.

"Zieten!"

The short man ceased the conversation he was having with another, looking up to his caller. His brown eyes widened in recognition and he promptly shooed the other man away as Alvar approached.

"What the heck happened?" Alvar snapped, not meaning to sound so harsh.

Zieten's eyes narrowed. "What does it look like? We were decimated! You should have gotten news already, which probably explains the reason you're here and not in Berlin."

Alvar nodded, pulling a sheet of paper from the pocket of his coat and holding it up.

"Frederick sent this to Berlin. I need to talk to him about it. Where is he?"

Zieten's eyes fell, consumed with a mixture of shame and anger.

"Follow me. I'll take you to his tent."

Alvar conceded and began following the shorter man. The first few minutes of walking were silent, allowing Alvar with no distraction from the hollow cries of the wounded.

"A group of my hussars saved Frederick from the battle field." Zieten informed, not bothering to look at Alvar.

"He was all alone. Didn't bother to retreat with the rest of the men. Almost got himself killed by a party of Cossacks, the fool."

"He isn't injured, is he?" Alvar asked concernedly.

He relaxed slightly when Zieten shook his head.

"Nothing more than a few scratches and bruises thankfully. Physically he's alright. However…" the man paused briefly before continuing.

"I'm worried about his mental state. If you read that letter, then you should understand."

Alvar nodded wearily.

"We have men set up around his tent, checking up on him regularly to make sure he's alright."

"Who is currently in command then?" Alvar asked.

"Command has been given to Fink. He's ready to give back the power to Frederick as soon as he recovers."

Alvar's brow knitted and he growled angrily.

Zieten stopped outside a large, guarded tent, which Alvar knew at first glance it could be no other than Frederick's. The brunette exchanged a few worried words with one of the watchmen before nodding and turning to Alvar.

"Go on in."

Alvar wasted no time to duck his head under the opening and enter the quarters. Inside the tent was reminiscent to how the camp looked; unorganized and chaotic. Clothes and books were strewn around, laying in the dirt or cast about on random furniture. Frederick sat at his desk, powdered wig long discarded as he slumped in his chair, hands clutching his head desperately and running through his matted, dust coated hair. Alvar's eyes wondered and caught sight of a silver flute, left atop of his ruffled cot.

"Can't even get yourself to play, huh?" Alvar commented, eyes glancing from instrument to man. Frederick didn't seem to react to Alvar's sudden presence. In fact, he was probably expecting him or another councilman at some point to arrive.

A defeated chuckle and a pair of weary gray eyes were turned to him.

"No. It's hard to do much of anything when one is waiting for their kingdom to fall."

"Is that what this is about then?" Alvar asked, holding up the letter.

Frederick's gaze hardened and he glanced away, refusing to respond. Alvar's frown deepened and he unfolded the paper.

"If you can't quite recall, this is the letter you wrote Berlin the night after the battle." He cleared his throat and began reading.

"'This morning at 11 o'clock I have attacked the enemy. …All my troops have worked wonders, but at the cost of innumerable losses. Our men got into confusion. I assembled them three times. In the end I was in danger of getting captured and had to retreat. My coat perforated by bullets, two horses of mine have been shot dead. My misfortune is that I'm still living… Our defeat is very considerable: To me remains 3000 men from an army of 48,000 men. At the moment in which I report all this, everyone is on the run; I am no more master of my troops. Thinking of the safety of anybody in Berlin is a good activity…'"

Avar paused for a moment, his voice becoming more prominent and angry as he read this next part.

"'It is a cruel failure that I will not survive. The consequences of the battle will be worse than the battle itself. I do not have any more resources, and - frankly confessed - I believe that everything is lost. I will not survive the doom of my fatherland. Farewell forever_!_'"

Once Alvar finished, he folded the letter and replaced it in his breast pocket.

"Well?" Alvar asked sternly, crossing his arms.

Frederick didn't answer.

"My king, please answer me." It sounded more like a demand, rather than a plea.

When he still refused to answer, Alvar sighed and he rearranged his thoughts.

_"Seeing as you are still around, things can't be as bad as they sound. What is our new position?"_

Frederick's head raised a little as he realized that his ex-general was speaking to him in French, his preferred language. He turned his head, eyes staring hardly into Alvar's blue. He was taken a back for a moment at the powerful gaze. Though the man was still shadowed by the depression of his defeat, his eyes didn't look of a man ready to die.

"_Though I returned with 3000, within a few days thankfully, most of the scattered men returned. But our casualties are still high. According to the reports we lost 172 cannons, 6,000 killed, and 13,000 wounded. Our strength has risen back to 32,000 men and 50 cannons, but that's hardly enough to stop another attack. Especially with the condition our men are still in."_

He paused in thought before continuing.

"_I've ordered Count Schmettau to surrender Dresden. No point in losing more men."_

"_And yet the Russians and Austrians still have yet to attack." _Alvar pointed out. The king didn't respond so Alvar continued.

"_I talked to a few scouts along the way. The Russian army pulled back after this victory. They are hesitating, failing to take advantage of the situation at hand! It's only a matter of time before they finally march into Bradenburg. Prince Henry and his army are still in Silesia! You need to take advantage of their failure to fully exploit their victory and stop them! There is still a chance!"_

Frederick's brow furrowed as he thought. His hands snatched some maps from the desk, scanning over them carefully.

Seeing the fire resurfacing in his king's eyes, Alvar relaxed, relaxing his stance. He had come from Berlin the moment the council had received the letter, worried about Frederick's condition. There was no denying it that the letter was a suicide note after all.

A quick side thought popped into Alvar's mind. He glanced wearily at Frederick, not sure if it would be out of line to suddenly ask. But he had completed his task already.

"It seems you have things under control again, your highness. However, before I take my leave, I must ask. What is the condition of Colonel Beilschmidt?" He didn't even realize that he had switched back into his native language when asking.

Frederick stopped looking at the charts before him, glancing towards the blond. His eyes fell again and he shook his head.

"We've lost a lot of fine officers in this battle, Alvar."

Alvar stiffened. Yes they lost a lot of men, but surely that lively, over eccentric, obnoxious son of his was alright! Visions of the wounded lying atop the cots haunted Alvar's mind. Was his son out among them?! Was he alright?!

Alvar was about to ask another question but stopped when a packet of papers were suddenly handed his way. He took the packet without even thinking. Glancing at it, he realized it was a list: a list of names.

"The name and rank of all fallen officers, along with their status. You might want to look at it." Frederick added.

Alvar was tempted to throw the list away as if it was a hot coal, yet his grip tightened. He stared at the front page, not really reading any of the names. It wasn't until after taking a nervous breath that Alvar began to read through the list of names. A part of him thought this was a joke. That he wouldn't read that name written on the parchment, but he knew that was wrong. However, not all of the names listed were dead as even the injured were reported.

He flipped through the next few sheets, trying not to think about the best case scenario, let alone the worse. His eyes froze as he came upon the inked letters of his firstborn's name. His grip tightened and it took him a moment before he could scan down the column.

It was as simple as reading three words. Three words and his life came crashing down. Alvar almost wanted to laugh at how simple it was.

_Gilbert Beilschmidt, Rank: Colonel, Status: Killed in action._

There's no way it was that simple. His Gilbert was anything but simple.

Soon it came hard for Alvar to read the list as it shook in his hands. Why or how it was shaking, he couldn't quite fathom at the moment.

"Alvar?"

How could this have happened?

"Alvar!"

Gilbert was a great soldier. An astounding fighter. He couldn't…not like this. Not this easily.

"ALVAR!"

Blue eyes shot up from the list, staring nervously into the hardened greys of his king's, who was now standing directly in front of him. Finally after getting his friend's attention, Frederick's gaze softened sadly.

"I'm truly sorry, Alvar. He was an outstanding soldier."

It made Alvar nauseous at how quickly the tables had turned. Just a moment ago, he'd been the one doing the comforting, and now look at him!

Alvar couldn't seem to find any words, but his hurt, questioning look asked everything he wanted to know.

"I just know what was reported to me. He fought bravely but eventually faced an opponent he couldn't defeat and suffered from multiple wounds. He went down fighting."

His words did nothing to comfort Alvar. It didn't matter if he son went down honorably, he still went down! His son was dead!

He mechanically handed the list back into his king's hands.

"I want to see him. Please." his words, though they held little emotion, they were nothing but whispers.

Frederick shook his head sadly.

"I'm sorry, my friend. But we were unable to retrieve the body."

**Author comments:**

** Tsk. This isn't going to get many any good reviews. But I must admit, this chapter was emotionally hard for me to write! (yet I still enjoyed it)**

**Small announcement! I wrote a sort of prequel to this story! A one shot focused on Alvar when he was younger. Please read it if you are interested! (and reviews are always nice too!)**

**History:**

***The battle described was Kunersdorf. The worst Prussian defeat of the 7 Year War. And as already explained, if the Russian and Austrian armies had taken full advantage of their victory, Prussia would have fallen.**

***The letter Alvar read was the actual words that Frederick wrote to Berlin.**

***The "enlightened" language, or in other terms, the language that the educated and the higher classed people learned was French at the time. It's said that Frederick loved it! More than German.**

***Also brief mention of Frederick's flute, which he was very fond of.**

**A few things mentioned in the previous chapter:**

*** the "Pyotr" that Ivan mentioned was Pyotr Saltykov, Field Marshall over this Russian army.**

***Tobacco tin: not an actual fact that Frederick was saved by the tin in his pocket, but it is a popular rumor that he was. **

**German:**

_**Wo bist du?- Where are you.**_

_**Warum**_**? **_**Warum hast du verlassen - Why? Why did you leave?**_

**Thanks for everyone's support! I never would have imagined I'd get as many reviews and readers as I've gotten! I'm truly honored!**

**Well, look forward for the next chapter! Danke!**


	13. An Apple a Day

Leaves and twigs brushed against Gilbert's cheeks as he hoisted his small body onto the thick tree branch. He sat still for a moment, panting to catch his breath and eyes working to see the scenery beyond the thick patches of green leaves. His lips formed into a proud grin. This was usually as high as he would climb. The branch was a perfect thickness, providing enough space for him to sit comfortably on. Within the openings of the leaves, he had a perfect view of his family's house and a good portion of the yard, yet there was still enough greenery that he was well hidden.

But he had to go higher. The tree was tall, and who knew if there were even better perches up top! Plus he had to prove to that stupid Josef kid below how awesome he was! He said he could climb to the top of this tree, and he would! It'd be a synch!

It didn't take long for him to regain his energy! He'd always been bustling with it, as his mother always told him. He stood up slowly, placing his hands against knobs in the trunk to keep his balance as he searched for his next target. His eyes gleamed when he spotted the next branch to his left. It was slightly high, but he could manage.

Placing a foot against the trunk, he found a knob just big enough for his toes. He took a deep breath and used his foot hold to hoist himself upward with outstretched hands. The branch lowered a tad under his weight, but it was still sturdy enough as he pulled his entire body onto it.

Gilbert noticed the branches were getting smaller as he climbed upwards, but he paid little mind to it. They'd hold. He climbed a few more branches until he reached the highest branch that he could. It was a little shakier than the others, but still held. He even shook it a few times to ensure its strength before placing his entire weight on it.

A warm summer breeze blew through the branches and caressed his face. He couldn't help but laugh how cool it was! There hadn't been a breeze down below, yet there was up at this height. He turned his head, looking through the openings in the green. He was astounded how different the perspective was up here. He could see everything! The house, the yard, the creepy cemetery in the back, and in the distance, he could even see a few of the busy streets of Berlin.

He chuckled before releasing a few victorious whoops, hoping that idiot below could hear him! He couldn't see Josef, but that was understandable. He had been standing at the base of the tree last Gilbert had seen him.

His smile turned into a wide grin as he relished the feeling he had. He felt like he was at the top of the world; he felt powerful even. He was awesome, and nothing could bring him down. But his thoughts were short lived, as a loud crack echoed in his ears, causing him to flinch. He could have sworn it was the shot of a gun he had heard. Yet it was so close. The sound sent painful vibrations into his ears.

It was only a second later when he realized where the sound had originated. He felt himself tipping as his foothold began to give way. His face paled and he froze, not able to think of what to do. It wasn't until his mind began to work again that he realized he needed to move! Needed to lower himself that very second! But it was already too late.

Before he could even move his feet, another crack filled the air and Gilbert could no longer feel the branch beneath his feet. Time seemed to slow as he fell, as if giving him a chance to save himself, but instead mocked him as his fingers brushed along branches, unable to grab a hold. Leaves slapped and twigs scratched, leaving painful gashes along his skin while his body was tossed over branches like a pinball as gravity drug him down. He didn't feel like he was screaming, but since he could hear nothing other than his own voice, he could only assume he was.

He wasn't even sure when he hit ground. All he felt was a strong force suddenly hit the back of his head and painful pinch in his lower back. His scream halted abruptly as the air was knocked from his lungs and his vision blacked out momentarily.

"GILBERT!"

His eyes fluttered open a smidge, only to shut them once again in order to escape the burning sunlight. "Gilbert! Please! Open your eyes!"

His body hurt. Everywhere. He didn't want to move. His body felt heavy and sore. And what was that piercing pain beginning to shoot up his back?

He felt soft hands clasped around his cheeks and his head was gently turned in the direction of the voice. It was a mixture of shock, sadness and most of all, terror.

The hands patted his cheeks rapidly, closely followed by the frantic,

"Please! Gilbert, wake up! You need to wake up!"

He noticed the voice was beginning to shake with sobs.

He didn't like it. He didn't like how frightened this voice sounded. He wanted it to sound lively and full of excitement.

_Don't cry, Ludwig…._

He cracked his eyes open again, squinting against the sun. His vision swirled and it took a while for it to clear, but the first thing he saw made his heart skip a beat. Those crimson eyes, similar to his own. The long, pale blond hair. That soft face that he came to love so much, though wracked with fear, he still recognized it.

"_Mutti_?" his voice was barely a whisper as it took all of the breath he had regained to utter the one word.

A flash of relief shot across her face but it didn't last long. She bent further over him, brushing a comforting hand along his unscathed skin.

"Shhh," she hushed calmly, her eyes not being able to hide the tears. "Hush, _Liebling_. Y-you'll be alright. I'm here now, you don't need to talk."

Gilbert couldn't talk if he wanted to. He felt hot. Extremely so.

_ Huh… If Mutter is here, then I must be dead after all. _

He felt warm tears fall on his face, almost matching the warm wetness spreading over his aching back and on the ground around him.

Her calls sounded distant as she turned from him to another. Her screams sounded almost as if he were underwater. His vision swam around him as another figure quickly came into view. The giant was quickly by his side. Blue, horror-filled eyes locked onto him.

"What happened?!"

"He-he fell! And-and the branch-Oh _Gott_! The blood!"

_Ah, that's right. I fell on the branch. That explains the pain._

His eyes lose focus and he again feels the light slaps of hands against his cheeks as his father calls out in his soothing baritone; his words intelligible. Gilbert pays no attention to the pleading calls. Instead, his mind is wrapped around the pain.

The pulsing waves of pain from his lower back seemed to fade into nothing but a stinging numb, while other pulses began to make their way known over his body, beating like a drum through his, making his muscles tense upon each hit.

One of the stronger pulses radiated from his right shoulder. It felt tense and stiff, as if something was restraining movement.

"Gilbert! Wake up!"

But his shoulder was nothing compared to the pain in his gut. It burned like fire and he wanted to scream, but didn't have enough energy to do so. Any sort of movement irked his midsection, releasing waves of pain throughout his entire body.

"Please, son! Open your eyes! Dang it, open them!"

A sudden burst of energy ran through Gilbert and his eyes shot open. However, rather than meeting with the familiar blue and red, his eyes locked onto gleaming violets, accompanied with a twisted, childish grin.

"Are you ready to play more, Prussian?" the voice asked, an edge of excitement to it.

Gilbert stiffened and his blood ran cold.

_ No no no no no! Please no!_

He tried to back away, to do anything he could to escape the gaze of those eyes, but the pain in his gut prevented him from doing so.

A light chuckle and soon he felt the Russian's large hands wrap around his throat. He immediately began to flail, hands doing what they could to pry those crushing hands from his esophagus. His body burned even more, but with the sudden surge of fear, he couldn't feel it. He attempted to use his legs to kick his assailant, but they wouldn't move. He thought he could also register a pair of invisible hands pressing down on his shoulders, irking his wound and causing even more fear to run through his blood.

Crimson eyes started to roll back into his skull and his mouth was open wide, desperately gasping for the air it couldn't get. His vision blurred once again and he felt himself stilling. The pain was subsiding as well. The grip around his neck loosened and he felt himself slipping. Slipping from whatever reality he was in. He couldn't tell if he was breathing, but he didn't seem to care. He suddenly felt so calm, as if his body was merely floating in an empty ocean; without any sort of feeling or emotion.

"_Bruder_!"

Eyes shot open and he felt as if his heart had jump started. His chest began heaving painfully as he gasped for air. The pain hit him like a bucket of ice water.

"_Bruder_!" the voice called again, causing Gilbert to flinch towards it. His vision swam for a moment but began to clear, revealing the worried blue irises and golden blond hair of the figure next to him.

"Lud…wig?"

The figure made no reaction to the name, and continued to look over him worriedly, taking a small cloth from his head and pressing a soft hand against his burning forehead. The hand felt good against his sweat covered head, and he unintentionally leaned his head against it.

The hand retracted, soon replaced again by the damp cloth. As the spinning world around him began to calm, Gilbert's brows furrowed slightly, as he noticed those bright blue eyes were now morphed into a beautiful sea-green, with those golden locks reaching all the way to the figure's chin, adorned with a maroon ribbon.

Eyes lowered to meet his again, softening from the worried look they had previously held.

"It's alright now. You're safe." she cooed softly before looking over her shoulder at a figure he had failed to notice.

"_Bruder,_ he's awake."

The man nodded, bending over Gilbert and inspecting him with his narrow, mint-green eyes. His hair was the same golden as his sister's and was actually the same length and style, with choppy, blond bangs hovering just above his brow. Their faces shared the same shape and structure, but his stern expression made him contrast heavily compared to his younger, soft faced sibling.

He reached a hand out, snapping his fingers just an inch from Gilbert's face, causing him to flinch weakly.

"Good reaction. Guess you really are awake this time." he said dryly before turning to his sister.

"Lili, go get the new bandages."

She gave a determined nod and stood from her chair, rushing quickly from the room. The man turned back to Gilbert, his expression showing irritation towards him. He didn't say a word to Gilbert.

The blond settled himself on the chair next to him, scooting himself closer. He lifted Gilbert's covers, causing his upper body to shutter as the cool air hit his bare, bandaged skin. He craned his neck as best as he could to take a look at his battered body. From what he could see, his entire chest was covered in white bandages, while the skin that he could see looked white compared to the purple bruises painted over his limbs. But what stood out the most was the blossoming crimson over his midsection.

The man clicked his tongue irritably and he carefully cut the stained bandages from his body.

"Tore right through the stitches!" he mumbled angrily.

Gilbert parted his lips and it took him a moment to remember how to speak.

"Wh-what are you-" his pathetic whisper was cut off as the space in Gilbert's mouth was suddenly filled with the taste of wood.

"Don't talk. You'll bite your tongue off."

Before Gilbert could even mull the statement over in his mind, he was suddenly hit by tidal wave of pain, stemming from his stomach and rooting its way throughout his entire body, chilling his blood and rattling his bones. His teeth dug painfully into the wooden rod in his mouth as a pained cry seeped from his mouth. Its volume was loud even with his mouth obstructed.

His fingers retracted and he clawed his nails into the sheets, as this man now held a firmly held cloth placed firmly along his wound, attempting to staunch the flow of blood, while his other hand began threading a needle through his severed skin.

Lili ran into the room as soon as she had heard the scream with clean bandages gathered-up messily in her arms. She gasped once she spotted the crimson blood staining his bandages and her brother's hands. Her shoulders stiffened and she found she wasn't able to move as the man's muffled cries exploded in her ears, his face contorted in pain.

She wasn't able to move until the screams came to a sudden halt, and the man fell still. Taking in a startled breath, she ran to the bedside, throwing the bandages on the table next to her.

"_Bruder_! Is he ok?" she asked worriedly, not able to stop herself from placing fingers on his throat in order to find a pulse, despite the fact his chest was still rising.

The blond man nodded, continuing with his needlework.

"He's fine Lili. As I thought, he'd reopened his wounds after that little tantrum of his earlier. Gotta close them now before he bleeds out or it gets infected. Now leave. I don't want you to see this."

Lili swallowed nervously, but shook her head, holding her ground.

"I-I can handle a little blood, Vash." she retorted, though her soft voice held little confidence.

Vash's green eyes glanced into hers for a moment as he mulled it over before sighing.

"Ok, but you better not get any nightmares from this."

Lili nodded, though her fists clenched nervously. She couldn't quite promise that. She'd been having nightmares ever since the blood-covered soldier had been brought to their house a week ago. While he was unconscious, thanks to his sickly pale skin and damaged body, she'd almost felt as though they were housing a corpse! But hearing his desperate, labored breaths, the pain visible in his contorted face, and his fitful, hushed mutterings, made her pity the soldier, and she soon became desperate to save him. Even if her brother wasn't enthused about taking care of the wounded man, she was!

Once Vash finished with the stitching, she handed him a damp cloth to clean his skin, soon followed by the clean strips of cloth. As her brother began redressing his freshly closed wound, her wide eyes wondered to the man's ashen face. He was still young, maybe only a few years older than her brother, yet he was in such a state; being kept just barely from death's grasp. Something on his face caught her eye and her face darkened sadly as she brought up a cloth and gently wiped the tears from his shut eyes.

o00o00o00o

Gilbert had been sure he was dead. Well, he'd been sure a few times, but this time he was certain of it! However, he was proven wrong again when his eyes fluttered open, to reveal himself lying in a soft bed rather than the cold ground. His head was still hot and felt as heavy as stone, but he found that he was still able to think with semi-clarity.

He couldn't quite remember what had happened. Couldn't understand why his body felt so heavy and ached with pain. Or why he was lying in an unfamiliar bed in this unfamiliar house. He glanced around, taking in the scene. Instead he settled on taking in his surroundings. He appeared to be in a house of some sorts. And probably a small one if he took the size of his room into account. With only the bed, small side table, a few chairs at the bedside, and a dresser stuffed in the corner to the room, he supposed only four other people would be able to fit themselves in there. Walls were bare and the only things he good see on the table besides him were pieces of blood speckled, white cloth and scissors.

The clicking of the door caught the Prussian's attention and a young blond girl entered. Her sea-green eyes lit up as soon as they locked with the dull red of his.

"Oh! You're up! Thank goodness! I was getting worried."

Gilbert raised a suspicious brow. Why was he- oh! That's right! He remembered her face vaguely, along with the face of another who has been taking care of his wounds. Though that was still all he knew.

"Wh-" the syllables scratched at his throat like sand, making him choke and unable to finish his weak question. Despite the softness of his voice, the girl seemed to have noticed and she perked up.

"Ah, wait! You must be thirsty."

Just as fast as she entered the room, she was gone. However, it wasn't a minute later that she was back with a large bucket in her arms. She settled herself in the chair by his bedside. A soft swishing sound and Gilbert suddenly felt the coolness of metal being placed against his lips: a ladle filled with cool water.

His lips parted and the girl caringly poured the water into his mouth, soothing his horse throat. She continued to spoon the water to him until he could drink no more.

"W-who are you?" the words were strangely weak and quiet, so very unlike the Prussian that it did nothing but frustrate him.

The young girl looked a bit taken aback for some reason and her face lit up slightly.

"Ah, sorry. I guess I should have introduced myself earlier. "I'm Lili Zwingli. It's good to meet you, sir."

Her soft voice held a slight accent to it. It was one he had heard before, but couldn't quite place. Though he at least knew she was still German.

"And you, sir?"

He hadn't realized he had dazed out until Lili's soft voice roused his attention. He stared at her for a moment, contemplating if he should even tell. He was still suspicious of this whole situation, yet it didn't set well with a girl as young as she to refer to him as a 'sir'. Only his soldiers called him that.

"Gilbert. Just Gilbert." he answered.

Her face lit up, startling him slightly at how thrilled she looked to know that simple piece of information.

"Great! So Gilbert, how are you feeling today?"

If the girl hadn't been so happy and innocent looking, he would have scoffed at the question, answering with some sarcastic riddled response, but couldn't get himself to do it.

"I've been better." he muttered, eyes looking away. His body still ached and he had yet to find the strength, and even the will to begin to move again.

He was once again startled as a hand suddenly rested on his forehead, causing him to flinch ever so slightly and irk his wounds. Thankfully she didn't see him grimace.

"You're fever's gone down considerably, thank goodness." she informed him, removing her hand. Then smiling, she asked, "You must be hungry. We've only managed to get some broth in you since you've been in our care."

Her words raised a few questions to his mind, but his emptiness in his stomach won him over.

Apparently his facial expression had been enough, for Lili suddenly stood from her chair.

"I'll go make something! Just wait here, I'll be quic-" Lili was cut off as she opened the door, causing a blond man just outside to nearly stumble into the room.

"_Bruder_?" Lili exclaimed quizzically as the man regained his balance. "Did you finish cutting the wood already?"

Vash's face lit up slightly, not wanting his sister to realize he'd been listening in on them.

"_J-ja_. I was just coming to check on you."

Lili apparently didn't notice, so he continued happily. "I was just going to make some food. Do you want anything?"

"I'm fine with whatever. But just broth for him. I doubt he'll be able to stomach anything else.

Gilbert felt a little put off, but he knew that the man was probably right.

Lili nodded and soon disappeared from the small room, leaving Gilbert alone with her brother.

Once she was gone, Vash turned his gaze to Gilbert, his gaze hard. Gilbert tried to return a look with just as much distaste. He hardly knew the man and already he didn't like him.

The blond looked at the door for a moment, obviously deciding if he wanted to leave or not, though he suddenly turned to Gilbert, eyes stern.

"Look, soldier. I'm just going to say this once, but if you do anything to my sister, I'll personally rip those stitches right out of you. Understand?"

Wow. What an introduction.

Gilbert managed an amused snort. He was so very different from his younger sibling.

"Understood." Gilbert responded, trying to add a sarcastic tone to his voice though it was hardly noticeable with how scratchy and weak it was.

Vash nodded, satisfied and he settled himself in the chair Lili once inhabited.

Gilbert's lips parted as he readied himself to ask but Vash began first.

"Vash Zwingli." he startled bluntly. "Some men of yours dragged your near dead body here and dumped you on me. I'm no doctor so I don't know the severity of your wounds. A medic had already patched you up a bit by the time you came here. My job is to merely watch over you until you either die or recover, and you can be returned home."

He paused for a moment, eyes glancing over Gilbert before adding a final comment. "And frankly, I'm surprised you're still alive."

Gilbert ignored Vash's irritated tone. He was just glad to finally hear what was going on, and why he was here. He also felt himself relax a little. His men found him. He can return home. But the warm feeling didn't last long as his memories began to return. He stiffened nervously as visions of his last battle perforated his thoughts and he remembered just how he had received his wounds. Visions of those violet eyes and twisted smirk.

"Oi! You going into shock or something?"

Gilbert hadn't realized that his breathing had quickened and his eyes glazed. He snapped out his memories of Kunserdorf and began taking deeper, slower breaths.

"I-I'm fine." he breathed out.

"Hmmpf. Good. I don't want you taking my bed for longer than you have to."

Crimson met green.

"How long…?" he couldn't quite finish the sentence. Vash raised a brow. "How long you've been here? Week and a half roughly. Been in and out of consciousness, though you were delirious for most of it. It wasn't until yesterday that you finally managed to come to. Don't know if you remember that. But you scared the heck out of my sister when you began thrashing about like a mad man while screaming! I had to restrain you from hurting Lili and yourself further."

Vash paused, waiting for some type of reaction, but the soldier remained still as he silently listened.

"But- anyways-, seeing as you're finally recovering, you'll probably be here another few weeks before you can finally be moved."

"Great." Gilbert muttered. His eyes were beginning to feel heavy again.

"You should really appreciate what my sister's done for you. If it wasn't for her constant care over you, you definitely would have died. A soldier like you doesn't deserve the attention she's been giving you." a hint of anger was laced into those last words.

Gilbert was silent, so much that Vash wasn't even sure he had heard his words. His eyes were barely open and the blond figured that he'd started to pass out again when he heard his voice.

"How old is she?"

The question caught Vash off guard and he stuttered a "What?"

"Your sister, Lili."

Vash didn't know how to react to such a question. Being a protective older brother, his first instinct was anger, though he was also a bit surprised and curious. He hesitated a moment before answering, though his voice held an air of suspicion.

"13. Why?"

A weary smile crossed the injured man's lips.

"My younger brother is the same age. Though," he added with a dry chuckle, " I haven't seen him since he was 10."

Vash was left speechless. He frowned. Why was this man telling him this? It was annoying yet…it also left a feeling of pity.

"I promised I'd come back…He's waiting for me…and the wedding… " his voice trailed off into incomprehensible mumbles as his heavy eyes finally closed and sleep reclaimed him.

Vash remained silent, sitting with his back straight and eyes studying Gilbert.

Why'd he say that? Bringing up his brother like that. Vash hated it. He hadn't liked the man the day he was forced on him. He hadn't tried hard to save him, no, not like his sister had. He hated soldiers. They were nuisances who used their position to trespass on his territory and take what they wanted from him. And then he had to go and start talking about his family, as if reminding him that he was human too.

Vash clenched his fists and he stood quickly from his chair, just as the door clacked open and his younger sister entered, her hands carrying a wooden tray with a steaming bowl of broth.

She smiled sweetly at her brother. "Did you two get along?"

"_Ja, ja_. We got along just _fine_." Vash waved off sarcastically. "But he's asleep now. Let him have his rest."

Lili's smile fell as a look of disappointment crossed her face, but it was soon replaced by a determined one.

"Ok. I'll wait for him to wake up again! We don't want him to starve."

Vash snorted, not being able to help himself from smiling at his sister's resolve. He raised a hand, patting her head softly.

"Ok. Let me know if you need anything, Lili. I should probably attend to the animals now. The cows won't like it if I forget to milk them."

o00o00o00o

Gilbert clenched his teeth in irritation while Lili, in her usual spot at his bedside, read to him from a book whose title Gilbert had long forgotten. He wasn't listening to her soft voice. He was focusing his attention on his body; on moving.

Since he had awoken among the Zwingli siblings a few days earlier, he had healed considerably, though he didn't see it that way. His body was no longer racked with a burning fever and his mind was clear. He no longer felt detached from his body, but he wasn't sure if that was a blessing or not. He hurt. A lot.

His shoulder ached and the hole in his gut burned like fire. He had regained the strength to move essentially, but the pain that shot from his stomach at even the slightest twitch was too much to bare. He was at least thankful he was no longer a vegetable, needing someone else's assistance just so he could drink.

However, that wasn't what worried him the most. What worried him was his legs. Or his left leg to be exact. While he could flex the toes on his right foot and feel the soft sheets against his bruised flesh, but not his left. He couldn't feel anything.

"Lili." he started, interrupting her reading. She paused and glanced up to him, her eyes curious.

"Yes, Gilbert?"

"What happened to my leg?"

The question seemed to startle the girl and she closed the book without thinking.

"Ah, uh, what do you mean?" her eyes were no longer looking at him as they danced around the room nervously.

Gilbert's fist clenched angrily at the sheets. "Don't act so innocent and tell me. What the heck happened to my blasted leg!?"

Lili seemed to jump at the sudden rise in Gilbert's voice and she fingered the book's spine nervously. She couldn't seem to find her voice to answer the question.

Gilbert's gaze hardened. "Fine." he growled. "If you won tell me, I'll find out myself."

Saying that proceeded to sit up; digging his fists into the straw mattress to support his rising body. Immediately his stomach began to protest, attacking him with burning pain as if to tell him to stop. Lili stood up abruptly.

"No! You mustn't! Your wounds!"

It was pathetic how easily the girl was able to push him back down to the bed.

"Stop it Lili!" he barked, lashing his hand at hers to push it away. But that didn't stop her from trying to keep him from sitting up.

"Gilbert! Please stop!"

Gilbert was breathing heavily through his teeth and his face was flushed, as it was already a challenge to sit up without any opposition.

Another rough attempt at sitting up and Lili frantically used both hands to press him back down, accidentally pressing her palms against both shoulders. Her eyes widened the moment she realized her mistake and Gilbert fell back to the sheets howling in pain. Both eyes and teeth were clenched shut as he moaned, using his good hand to grip at the edges of his shoulder, nails digging into his skin as if trying to draw the pain away.

"I'm sorry! I'm sorry!" Lili sobbed, tears coming to her eyes and she retracted her hands, not trusting herself to touch him again.

"I'm so sorry! I just wanted-" her voice cut off as she did her best to repress a sob. Gilbert was in too much pain to notice, but had he; he would have instantly been consumed with guilt. Despite his earlier anger, he had really come to care for the young girl over these last few days. She reminded him of Ludwig.

"Lili!" Vash's commanding voice filled the room as the door was slammed open. Seeing his sister's crying face, he immediately rushed to her, ready to reopen Gilbert's wounds, but a quick glance at him and he realized someone already seemed to have done just that.

"_Bruder_, I-I didn't mean to! I panicked and-and I hurt him!" more tears streamed down her face. Vash's face softened and he pulled her into a brief hug. Still in the hug he glanced down to Gilbert.

"Hey, you okay down there?" he asked uncaringly.

"Peachy." Gilbert growled sarcastically from between his teeth as the pain thankfully began to subside.

Vash turned his head back to his sister, wiping a stray tear from her face.

"See? The idiot is just fine. There's no reason to cry."

Lili nodded but she couldn't stop herself from releasing a few more sobs.

"By the way," Vash began, his voice hardening as he again turned his gaze to Gilbert.

"What'd you do to her?"

"He didn't! I just-"

"What happened to my damn leg!?" Gil's voice easily swallowed Lili's sobs.

Vash met Gilbert's stern gaze, his own softening with understanding. He turned his attention back to his sister, fingers moving to touch the green ribbon adorning her soft hair.

"You should know better, Lili." he whispered in a voice so soft that only she could hear. "You can't keep this kind of truth from him, no matter how painful. I know you want to help, but delaying it does nothing."

She shuttered, sniffing to keep her nose from running.

Vash's eyes moved to Gilbert, whose attention was no longer on the siblings. Instead he was back to trying to lift himself up. However, due to his previous attempts, he didn't have the strength to lift his head more than a few inches.

"Brace yourself." Vash's voice announced just next to his ear.

"Wait wha- Ahhhhhhhghh!" Gilbert howled after Vash had wrapped his arm around Gil's back and abruptly hoisted him up, causing his gut to burn.

Gilbert wanted to cuss the blond out but he was too busy biting his lip, trying to suck in the pain. He heard Vash smirk and he managed to weakly jab him in the side with his elbow.

Vash remained silent as he continued to use his strength to support Gilbert's upper body as he adjusted to his new position. Once his breathing calmed Vash chimed in.

"You ready?"

"Ja." he huffed

Vash nodded and grabbed hold of the blankets, ripping them off to reveal the rest of Gilbert's body.

Gilbert's breath caught in his throat and his body tensed. Vash remained silent.

He'd known from the start it would be bad. From the detached feeling to Lili's reaction, he expected nothing less, and he prepared himself for it. But this was not what he expected. He expected to see a mutilated limb, perhaps bent at impossible angles, with nothing visible but blood stained bandages. But he had not prepared himself for what he saw- or rather, for what he didn't see.

His arms reached out slowly and he began to caress his fingers over the bandaged remains of what remained of his limb. Everything, everything just under the knee, was gone. Just like that. Gone as if it hadn't existed at all.

"It was gone before you were ever brought here. Whether you lost it in battle, or it was amputated afterwards, I don't know." Vash muttered, and for once his voice didn't sound angry when talking to the Prussian.

Gilbert's fingers reached out beyond his knee, feeling for anything, as if it was merely his vision playing tricks on him, but all he met was air. He took in a shaky breath and his fingers moved to gasp the edge of the loose, wool pants that covered his lower body. His shoulders began to shake.

"Gilbert, I-" Lili started but stopped as a soft noise began to escape his lips. At first the siblings suspected it to be crying, though they were quite shocked as his volume rose to reveal he was laughing.

"Ahahahahahahahaha!" Hands rose to wrack over his face as he continued his mad laugh.

Vash nervously patted his hand on his back, trying to get his attention.

"Oi, Gilbert."

But the pale blond just shook his head as he continued his laughter which soon formed into words.

"Of course! Of course! _Vater_ injured his leg! It only makes sense that his son loses his! Oh karma! I always have despised you!"

Vash slowly lowered the hysterical man back onto his back, careful not to jostle any of his wounds.

"Gilbert! Gilbert, please!" Lili once again attempted to get his attention. She couldn't stand seeing him like this.

Gilbert's laughing stopped, but his hands remained covering his face.

"I'm fine, Lili. You and your brother can leave now. I'd like to be alone."

"But-" she was stopped when her brother's hand clasped on her shoulder. Her frightened green eyes rose to meet with his.

She didn't say a word as he brother gently led her from the room. When she glanced over her shoulder one last time before the door shut behind her, she saw that Gilbert still shook with silent laughter. His hands shielded his eyes from view, but she noticed his lips were no longer upturned in his amused manner, but open, revealing his teeth as they bit together sorrowfully.

o00o00o00o

The days that followed were quiet. Eerily so even. Though Gilbert hadn't quite been himself since he awoke, he had at least been able to get himself to smile a little, and make decent conversation with Lili. Vash had seen the fire in his eyes. He had seen how determined the man was to recover. However, ever since he'd realize the absence of his leg, that fire had died.

He wouldn't respond to Lili's questions, nor would he greet Vash with some sharp, sarcastic comment. No. He didn't even seem to acknowledge their existence anymore. Finally Lili had come crying to Vash one day. He wasn't eating much anymore and she couldn't stand how unresponsive he was. Vash had allowed Gilbert to wallow in his grief for a few days, but once it caused his sister to break down, he knew it had to come to an end.

He stomped into the room, slamming the door shut behind him. Gilbert made no response, which Vash had to admit it irritated him. He felt as if he was putting extra effort into each step he took, hoping it radiated his annoyance. He sat himself roughly in the chair, folding his arms over his chest and crossing his leg over the other. He hardened his gaze and glared at him in silence. Gilbert lay motionlessly on his back, his eyes glued to the ceiling.

When the man gave no acknowledgement to his stabbing glare, Vash cleared his throat rather loudly. Gilbert didn't respond. He tried again, and with the same result. About a minute or so of silence followed. Between the mixture of anger and depression, the tension in the air would have silenced any grown man. Finally when the Swiss man had had enough, he slammed his foot against the floorboards.

"So are you dead now or what? Cause if you're a dead man, I will not hesitate to dig you a grave right now!"

Gilbert's eyes flickered to him for a moment before returning to the ceiling.

Vash gritted his teeth.

"Have you given up already? Are you saying all the effort my sister and I have put into taking care of you was for nothing? Feeding you our food, putting off our chores, giving up my bed! I've been sleeping on the floor boards for the last two weeks, _arschloch_!"

Gilbert's brows narrowed slightly, but he still refused to meet Vash's gaze.

"This doesn't concern you." he muttered, his voice nothing but a pathetic whisper.

"Doesn't it?" Vash raised a brow irritably. "Well, if it doesn't concern me, what about my sister? She's given up sleep on your pathetic sack of flesh!"

Gilbert's eyes narrowed angrily.

"And what about your brother?" Vash shot back, "Didn't you say you promised you'd return to him?"

To his delight, he noticed Gilbert's body tense. He held back the victorious smirk for now and he continued to play off of his trump card.

"You narrowly escaped death, with _only _a missing leg! Isn't that something you should be proud of? You can still return home!"

"Not on my own I can't!" Gilbert spat out. "I'm a freaking cripple!"

"Better a cripple than a corpse!" Vash shot back, warranting a hard glance from Gilbert before he turned his head away from him.

Vash watched him silently. He wasn't quite satisfied with what he'd gotten, but he had gotten a response from the man. He could be proud of that at least. His mentions of this younger brother of Gilbert's also seemed to strike a chord with him. In the time Gilbert has been in their care, he hadn't once mentioned his brother again. They hadn't even learned the name of this sibling, but apparently he was very important to the man, and again, that angered Vash. It reminded him of himself, and of how deeply he cared for his own sibling. He didn't want to liken himself to this soldier. Especially with how pathetic he had become.

Vash sighed, shaking his head warily.

"My sister and I never knew our mother. In fact, I wouldn't be surprised if we had different mothers. But thankfully, we both inherited my father's looks." Why was he telling Gilbert this? He hadn't the faintest idea, yet his lips continued to move.

"Father was a mercenary by trade, so while my sister and I are Swiss, we've been moved around a lot do to his many jobs. Never really stayed in one place for more than two years. We never were able to make friends, and with my father's job, he was hardly home. It was just me and Lili."

Gilbert perked up a little at the familiarity of the story.

"Long story short, the fool got him killed, leaving my sister and I with nothing to our names. I had to take up odd jobs around town just so Lili and I wouldn't starve. It took years of hard work, saving money, and luck to get this house, our cows, and the meager acre of land we have now."

Vash paused for a moment, his voice becoming bitter.

"And then this stupid war started, and since then you stupid soldiers have been doing whatever you want! Trespassing on my land! Demanding I feed your kind and give them lodgings! When I refused, they ended up forcing their way in my house, taking what the pleased, killing my animals and they almost hurt Lili!"

Gilbert's full attention was on Vash now. His eyes wide and he hung onto every word.

"So I did what I had to. In order to protect my sister, my land, my neutrality in this war. I shot them. Hadn't meant to kill them, I didn't even aim. But one of them was unlucky and died. Though I didn't really care if he died. He was a dirt bag. He deserved it."

A spiteful chuckle fell from his lips.

"And of course, since I killed a soldier, I was in a lot of trouble. Locked in prison for a week and was facing execution. But I was lucky I guess, because I was pardoned. Not without a price of course. They took away my neutrality; my freedom. I'm their dog now, back to doing odd jobs for my master. Doing whatever they want with me, whether as a messenger or sharp shooter." He paused to give an unamused nod towards Gilbert. "And _you_, sir, are my current job for this blasted army! You were so close to being dead when I got you, I could have let you die; I wanted to let you die. Nothing would have been placed on my head for it! But Lili…. I don't know why, but she didn't want that.

"That's the thing about her. She's very shy and withdrawn. But when she wants to do something, she does it! You are only alive because of her! Because she took care of you, and dragged me into it!"

"Why?" Gilbert piped in.

"'Why' what?"

"Why are you telling me this?"

Vash looked away begrudgingly, readjusting his folded arms against his chest.

"I don't know! You just make me so angry! You're a stupid fool who is taking everything for granted! I thought I hated you before when you talked, but for some reason, you are even more annoying when you don't!"

Silence followed and Vash refused to look back at the injured man. At least, he didn't until an amused laugh broke the silence and he couldn't help but shoot him a bewildered glance. He hadn't believed it was really Gilbert's voice until he saw it with his own eyes. But sure enough, Gilbert's lips were raised as he laughed. It made Vash's blood boil.

"Hey! What's so funny about that!? Here I am pouring my heart out, and you laugh!?"

Gilbert continued to laugh until it turned into painful winces and his hand shot to his stomach, but the smile remained on his face.

"Ahhh hahaha… I'm sorry. It's just… I've been called a lot of things! Gotten on a lot of nerves! But never has someone been angry because I was quiet!"

Vash's face was beginning to heat up angrily, but he couldn't come up with anything to say. Gilbert's chest continued to vibrate with silent laughter. Vash clenched his fists and stood up.

"Whatever! Laugh all you want! But if my sister comes to my crying over your sorry excuse for human flesh, then I'll fill you full of even more lead then what was taken out of you!" And with those words, he stomped from the room, slamming the door behind him.

Gilbert continued to chuckle silently for a moment before he finally calmed. His smile not only remained on his face but grew. He hadn't smiled like this since he'd barely escaped death's grasp.

He raised his hand to his head, running his fingers through his sweat-dampened hair.

"Those Swiss…they really suck at pep-talks."

o00o00o00o

"_Bruder_ was furious when I cut my hair! He said he'd really liked my hair in braids, but I really just did it for him. Our hair is the same color, and I wanted to look like him."

Gilbert listened to the girl's story with a smile. His head rested against the wall as he had finally been able to sit himself up without causing his midsection too much pain. He enjoyed watching the girl open up; telling him stories of her childhood. But he mostly enjoyed the black mail her stories were providing him of her brother. He especially enjoyed the story involving Vash's pair of pink pajamas.

"And? There's got to be more to it?" he asked with a sly grin.

Lili's face lit up and she glanced at her lap. "W-well yes. There's a little more. But…"

"But what?"

"Well…" she hesitated, but finally managed to start again. "We went to town together soon afterwards. I hadn't wanted to wear a dress that day, and instead wore some of my work clothes. And with my short hair, one of the town's women mistook me as a boy."

Her face turned bright red as she finished, making Gilbert laugh louder.

"So afterwards _Bruder _bought me a bunch of ribbons to tie in my hair. I always wear them."

"Oh really? And here I thought he was too cheap to buy anything but food staples and guns." Gilbert chuckled.

Lili couldn't help a small giggle as well.

"_Bruder_ means well. We've been able to save a lot with how frugal he is."

"Yeah, just make sure you guys don't forget about it. With how he is, he'll grow old and still be saving money!"

"So what about you, Gilbert? _Bruder _should be back soon with your fellow soldiers to take you home. Is there someone you are returning to?"

Gilbert smiled softly at the though. Home, huh? It seemed so far away still. Like a dream that would never come. But now that he'd healed enough, it was finally time. He could see Ludwig again. After so long.

He folded his arms against his chest, hating the way the white shirt tightened on his shoulder. He'd given Lili quite the shock a few times after sitting up with nothing but thin bandages lining his chest. The innocent girl and _especially_ her overprotective sibling found it very improper of him to go any longer without a shirt. So Vash had been kind enough to lend him one of his. Unfortunately it was a tad too small for comfort.

"I have a younger brother named Ludwig. He's your age now." he informed her, smile widening. Lili seemed to appear happier than Gilbert did at the news.

"That's so exciting! I bet he misses you a lot! I don't know if I'd be able to stand it if my _bruder _went to war."

"Yeah, he's a strong kid, that's for sure. But I'm going to owe him a lot after what I got myself into." His smile faded a tad, holding a hint of sadness as his crimson eyes glanced to his legs.

"I'm going to have a hard time explaining _that_ to him." Gilbert paused for a moment.

"Things are going to be a lot different for us now. There's gonna be so much that I can't do with him anymore."

Lili looked at him sadly, but her eyes were full of hope.

"Don't say that. Remember what _bruder_ said yesterday? With the way your leg is, you could always attempt to use a wooden prosthetic. It'd take some time getting used to, but you seem like you'd manage."

Gilbert snorted. This girl did so much better at cheering him up than her brother did.

"_Ja_. I suppose I'll look into it. Not saying things still won't be different, I guess." he wrinkled his nose slightly. "But a wooden leg? How unawesome. There's no way I'll be able to make fun of _Vater_ anymore."

Lili cocked her head questioningly at the last comment but Gilbert just shook his head, muttering, "Nevermind."

They heard the faint sound of a distant door opening, followed by the stomping of multiple feet and muffled voices. Both people glanced to the door. A rush of excitement ran through Gilbert but it was dulled quickly when he got a look at Lili's downcast eyes.

"Looks like they are here to take you home." Lili muttered with a sad smile. Gilbert nodded, matching her smile. "Yep. Time for me to leave."

When the girl turned her head away sadly, Gilbert caught hold of her hand and squeezed it gently. She glanced back up to stare in those red eyes of his. His smile widened.

"Seriously though. Thank you so much Lili. I literally owe you my life."

"N-nonsense! Anyone would have done the same!" she glanced away nervously.

Gilbert chuckled. "Not according to Vash!"

A yell from beyond the room caught their attention. It was too muffled for them to make out, but Gilbert recognized it to be the Swiss man's

"Speaking of which, sounds like he's already picking a fight with them. Better stop him before he grabs one of his guns."

Lili nodded, standing from the chair that she'd found herself in quite frequently this last month. And frankly, she'd miss it.

"Do you think you'll ever visit? _Bruder_ and I would like it if you visited."

Another yell from beyond the door, but they paid it no mind.

"Ja. If it really is okay with Vash." Gilbert shrugged, grinning. "Plus I'm sure Ludwig would love to meet you guys."

Lili smiled. The sounds of feet and voices were getting closer, nearing the room they were in.

"Oh!" Gilbert perked up, as he realized a bit of information he'd need. "I forgot to ask, but what town are we in? Hope it's not too far from Berlin."

Lili froze, he smile falling.

"What?"

Gilbert frowned. "That far, huh?"

The voices were right outside the door now. Vash continued to yell. He sounded furious.

"Gilbert?" Lili started, her hands nervously gripping at the folds of her skirt. "You're Prussian?"

Gilbert's face paled.

Before he could even react, the door opened rather harshly, causing the two to jump. Though what caused Gilbert's heart to race was that the soldiers who filtered into the room didn't wear the Prussian blue coats, but the white of the Hapsburgs; of the Austrians.

Gilbert dug his remaining foot into the mattress, pushing his body against the corner of the wall. His breathing had picked up again.

"I'm impressed Vash! You weren't joking when you said he'd healed up nicely. Good work." The Austrian leading the pack spoke up, a grin washing over his face underneath his thick mustache. He motioned to one of his men. "Pay the man"

The young soldier nodded, and Vash found a pile of silver thalers being placed in his pale palm.

Gilbert's eyes narrowed angrily, his teeth gnashing like a cornered dog.

"Vash, you-! You sold me out?! To the Austrians?! You-" Gilbert couldn't seem to form the words correctly, so he settled for releasing a cacophony of furious swears and curses, all directed at the Swiss man.

Vash's grip tightened on the thalers. He didn't want their money. He wanted to throw it back at the soldiers and tell them to keep it! They fooled him after all! When they dumped Gilbert on him to take care up, they had conveniently left out the fact that he was their prisoner!

Gilbert cursed and swung his fists as the men tried to grab hold of him. Lili shrieked, telling them to leave him alone. Finally, one of the soldiers grew weary of his thrashing and withdrew a pistol from his side.

Vash's voice came back to him as he screamed at the man "Don't! He's already injured!"

But that didn't stop the man from ramming the end of the gun into Gilbert's temple, causing his red eyes to roll backwards into his skull and his body fell limp.

Two men reached out, each grabbing one of Gilbert's arms and throwing them over their shoulders as his limp body was dragged from the bed. And just like that, no rope, no cuffs, no guns being pointed against his head, just like they had come, they dragged an unconscious Gilbert from the room. His toes were rubbing softly against the floor while the remainder of his left leg hung uselessly. His head lolled on his neck limply, the specks of red blood contrasting heavily against his pale blond hair.

And then, just as suddenly as he arrived, he was gone.

**Author comments:**

**Let the records show that I did not kill Gilbert! It made me sad how some of you completely lost faith in me during the last chapter. **

**I'm not looking for reviews…I'm looking for reactions! So please! Let me know what you think!**

**PS: The word count for this chapter is OVER 9000!**


	14. Wurst over Escargot

It was just going to be another, usual day. Not dull, though not particularly exciting. At least, that's what he had told himself when he woke that morning. He slid out from his bed covers and sat on the edge of the bed, stretching his arms and arching his back. A soft yawn escaped his lips.

He stood up from his seat and hobbled the few strides to the mirror. His lips curled into an approving smile and he couldn't help but crank his head and puff out his bare chest upon seeing his reflection. Despite his long, curly blond hair being quite disheveled from sleeping, he knew he looked amazing. He examined his chin, rubbing his fingers along the stubble that had been growing in lately. He had shaved it off a few times, but as time went on, the untrimmed hair rather grew on him. He loved how it seemed to add to his face, complimented his blue eyes, thin eyebrows and arched nose.

"_Bonjour belle_." he smiled, pursing his lips as he raised his chin.

A hard knock on the door pulled his attention away from himself. His smile fell, his blue irises continuing to stare into the mirror.

"Always so early." he grumbled to himself before turning away and moving towards the door of the tiny, dull quarters that he lived in. Opening the door gracefully he put on a smile. The chilled, autumn, air hit his bare body as he did.

"_Oui_?"

"_Herr_ Bonnefoy you are ne-" The young Austrian messenger paused and his cheeks grew red, eyes quickly darting to look away as he exclaimed nervously, "S-sir! Where are your clothes?!"

Francis cocked his head to the side.

"I've only just awoken. Don't tell me you sleep fully clothed, _Lieutenant_?" he chided, a sly smile creeping on his lips. "Now, what was it you came to report to me?"

The Austrian frowned, his eyes refusing to return to the French man as he spoke.

"The Captain wishes to speak to you concerning the new prisoner we have taken in. We're going to try to get information out of him today."

Francis raised an eyebrow. It wasn't every day that they got a prisoner at their small fort. However…

"And what does this have to do with me?

The man hesitated for a moment before answering. "He simply asks for your presence as the French representative. He has reason to believe this Prussian has some information we can use."

Francis sighed, barely managing to suppress an eye roll.

"So if you would please-" the man continued, brows narrowing, "get some clothes on!"

Francis snorted. So bold for such a low ranking man. And to be talking to _him_ like that? Although Francis wasn't the man's direct superior, he was still the rank of a major.

"_Oui, oui_. Fine. You Germans don't know a thing about beauty!" He scoffed, closing the door and turning back into the room to retrieve his clothes.

He was digging through a dresser drawer when he heard a tired moan behind him, causing him to jump slightly. Peaking over his shoulder he noticed the thin, curvatures of a body lying beneath his bed covers. He snorted amusedly. He had completely forgotten about last night's guest, Hele- no. Gertrude? Sybil? Drat, he couldn't remember the woman's name.

He slipped on his trousers, shrugging his thoughts off. It didn't matter too much to him. He doubted he'd see the blond beauty again. Pity.

A dress shirt, belt, and light blue coat later, and he was ready. Though as he passed by the mirror, he stopped, taking one last glance at himself before pulling back his blond locks and tying it in a small pony tail. A smile to the mirror, a kiss blown to the sleeping woman in his bed before slipping on his boots, and he was out the door again. It was hard to miss the relieved look that the Austrian Lieutenant gave him when he appeared before him fully clothed this time.

The air outside was crisp, which had long replaced the summer air with its chill. But the sky was still clear with only a few clouds marring the pale blue. The grass crunched beneath the Frenchman's boots. It was still a pale green, but it was clear that it was well on its way to a brown-yellow.

Francis crossed his arms to keep the chill from creeping through his clothing, and began following the now marching Austrian, to the barracks. Although Francis hardly needed to be led. After being forced to live in this small Austrian fort for a couple years, he knew his way around.

"This is the man you drug in the day before yesterday, _non_?" he asked.

The soldier only nodded as he continued to lead.

"So what was the wait for? Thought your Captain would have already gotten his paws on whatever information he held."

"He was found severely injured, and though we had him patched up over the last month, he was in too bad of a condition for questioning yesterday."

Francis pursed his lips. "So he put up a fight, didn't he?" he smirked knowingly.

The Austrian growled, signifying a 'yes'.

"And what info do you already have on this prisoner?"

"He's a Colonel in the Prussian army, if his bloody uniform was anything to go by."

Francis snorted.

"And here I was expecting nothing less than a Lieutenant General, but a Colonel? Just because that's a higher rank than anyone currently in this fort, doesn't mean he's hostage worthy."

The man shrugged. "I wasn't the one who brought him in. But what caught our eye is his age. He's got to be younger than even I, and already he's of such a high rank. We didn't think he'd survive his wounds after one of the doctors treated him, but since he did, the Captain is anxious to know who he is; if we can use him."

"Ah." Francis said in mock clarity. "So we not only have a lower ranking Prussian prisoner, but he's broken? Lovely choice. I'll never understand the thinking of you Germans."

The Austrian snorted angrily, opening the door that entered the barracks and begrudging allowing the Frenchman to walk in before closing the door behind him.

"Not 'broken' enough. He's been pretty defiant." he mutters.

Francis rolled his eyes. These men knew nothing. What kind of info could they ever get from a Colonel? He began to doubt if this was even an authorized capture.

The rest of the walk down the cold, empty hallway was silent, adding to the creeping stillness that the barracks always held. Thankfully there were windows, high up in the solid rock walls, allowing sunlight to illuminate the hall, much unlike the area where the jail cells were held. However, Francis wasn't led to a jail cell, but to one of the doors that lined the left side of the hall.

The German stopped at the side of the door, back straight and against the wall as he looked to Francis, nodding his head to step inside.

Francis frowned. So they had started the interrogation without him? Cheeky Germans.

Despite his displeasure, Francis went along with the man, opening the door and quietly slipping inside.

The room was made of solid rock, not allowing any warmth to sink into the room. It was dark, but thankfully there was another high up window carved out from the walls that allowed Francis enough light to see the room's occupants.

There were a few Austrian soldiers present, most just standing and watching, while one older one, who Francis recognized as the 'dear Captain' of their troop, stood near a figure tied to a chair, his deep voice forming questions which only seemed to fade into the bleak lighting and cold walls as Francis hardly paid the man any of his attention. Instead, his blue eyes had locked onto the prisoner.

Unlike most prisoners, (especially the wounded ones,) who tended to shrink down in their chairs, head down like a captured animal; curling their bodies in on themselves as if to help escape death as a predator loomed over them, this man sat up with his back straight and head up. His lips were pressed firmly into a straight line and his eyes stared ahead, not bothering a glance at his questioning captor, as if he didn't deserve his attention. He wore nothing but dirty trousers, with bandages covering the majority of his midsection and wrapping over his right shoulder. Francis had even almost missed the absence of a left leg, as his eyes were still set on his posture.

He didn't look like a prisoner, despite the heavy wounds and the bound wrists. The way his young face hardened, and eyes narrowed, almost gave him the appearance that _he _was the one asking the questions. As if the filth standing before him were the ones bound at his mercy.

A smirk crept onto Francis's face. Though Germans, Prussians especially, were known to be a strong, prideful people, he hadn't expected to see one hold onto such attributes while in captivity. However, his smirk didn't last long as he continued to scan over that face. There was a sort of familiarity to it.

A loud smack caught Francis's attention and the prisoner's face flew to the side, his cheek now red from the smack.

"Answer me, you Prussian dog!"

But the prisoner did nothing of the sort. He merely turned straightened his head and narrowed his crimson eyes towards his offender.

"State your name!"

When the prisoner said nothing, continuing to stare murderously at his interrogator, he earned himself another smack to the cheek, however, rather than a slap, the man had used his fist, knocking the Prussian's head further to the side.

"You don't seem to understand the position you are in, do you?! You are at our mercy. Whether you live, die, or suffer is completely up to us! It'd be in your best interest to answer our questions!"

Francis wouldn't have believed he had heard a chuckle from the man if he didn't see him grinning. It wasn't a happy grin per say, but a toothy, amused one. He spit out a wad of blood laced saliva onto the man's boots before saying, "But it's just so much fun pissing you off!"

It didn't take too many punches before the chair, along with the Prussian tied to it, were on the ground. He had landed on his wounded shoulder, and from the way his face contorted in pain, Francis knew that it hurt more than any of the Captain's punches. However, the Austrian seemed to have noticed this as well, for it wasn't a few seconds later that a boot was suddenly placed atop of the Prussian's shoulder blade, and slowly but pressure on it.

"I ask again, what is your name?"

The prisoner's bore his teeth and clutched his eyes shut, and even in the dim lighting, Francis could tell his face was growing red as he fought not to cry out in pain.

"G-Gilbert…" he wheezed out, casing Francis to perk up. But unfortunately for the Prussian, the pressure only strengthened, and the man was unable to hold back a strained whimper. Francis perked up.

"Schmidtt! It's Schmidtt!" Gilbert cried out, voice cracking slightly. The pressure relieved itself momentarily.

"Schmidtt?" the Austrian repeated, not bothering to hide the suspicion in his voice. "So is that what you've decided to call yourself, huh?"

From his stance, Francis could tell he was pressing nearly half of his entire body weight on the wound now, filling the room with Gilbert's pained cries.

"Captain!" Francis's voice called out over the wails, causing the man to lift his foot from the man and the room almost immediately fell quiet.

The Austrian turned to cast an irritated glance towards the Frenchman. Francis ignored the disrespectful look and walked forward with his hands folded behind his back. A coy smile fluttered over his face.

"You should know that while torture gets you answers, it hardly gets you the correct ones. And if you can't even get his true name from him, how do you propose you are going to get any valuable information?"

The man's bushy mustache twitched.

"So what do you suggest I do, _Major_?_" _he growled.

Tsk tsk, such disrespect. And here Francis thought that after the few years of working with the man, that they were friends.

"You need to dig for the answers yourself. But in order to do that, you need tools, or resources, none of which you seem to have."

"What?!" The man snapped, stomping his raised foot onto the hard ground. His full attention was now on Francis. "Know your place! While you may be of higher rank, that is in your army! Here, I am in charge!"

"And you wonder why you haven't gotten that promotion yet." Francis chuckled. "My superiority may not apply in your eyes, but I'm sure that Marshal Daun would disagree. Tell me, are you even authorized to have this prisoner?"

The Austrian took a nervous step back as he shrunk under Francis's knowing gaze.

Francis continued. "After all, if he was a Marshal, or even a General, he would have to be reported to Lauden right away, and most likely being interrogated by his troops right now, rather than the Captain of an empty Austrian fort."

He looked as if he wanted to snap his teeth at the Frenchman, but remained silent. Francis fought the urge to roll his eyes. This man was far too easy to read. He had foolishly had this man captured from the last battle, hoping that he would be good enough to get information from, which he would then later share with his superiors. Francis wanted to smack him for such idiocy; however, in this case, the man had been lucky. This prisoner could possibly prove useful.

"Hey." Francis called, his gaze now falling down to the panting Prussian being pressed against the floor. Those red eyes met with his, scrunching up slightly, as if the Prussian had seen something strange.

Francis motioned his head to the guards, and Gilbert was soon lifted upright, his leg's chairs placed steadily back to rest on the floor. The Prussian tried to regain his once proud posture, but he remained hunched over slightly, trying to get over the harsh treatment of his wounds.

Francis bent over the man, his hand grasping and lifting his chin, so that they were at the same eye level. Francis frowned as he scrutinized the face for a moment, and Gilbert did the same as he looked at Francis's.

"You." Francis began, his voice serious. "You're a Beilschmidt, aren't you?"

Gilbert's eyes widened in horror briefly before attempting to go back into their apathetic state, but he was unsuccessful. Francis smiled, nodding as he straightened himself.

"You are lucky Captain. Lucky that I have the resources that you lack." Francis announced, his gaze still on Gilbert's shocked one.

"The Beilschmidts are a well-known, military family, much like the von Kleist nobility, if you have ever heard of them. There are far less Beilschmidts than there are Kleists, but they have connections with the King himself."

A smile was taking the place of the snarl that had once been the Austrian's face.

Francis clicked his tongue. "This one is young, and his rank alone wouldn't give us any useful information, but his identity could be useful."

"And so, what does that mean?"

"It means that his family might want him back. Their King might want him back." Francis answered thoughtfully. "With how serious the Kingdom of Prussia is in this war, I wouldn't be surprised if they gave him up, but I'm sure your Generals would still like to hear of his capture. He could very well be used as leverage or hostage exchanges."

"Heh!" The Austrian man chuckled, clasping a very ill-desired hand onto Francis's shoulder.

"And here I thought you'd never prove useful, Bonnefoy!"

Francis noticed the Prussian stir at the mention of his name.

"Bonnefoy?" he repeated, his face scrunched up in confusion, before they widened with clarity. The suspicion and familiarity, which Francis had noticed in them earlier, finally coming to light.

"Bonnefoy! You-!"

But before Gilbert could say any more, Francis had slammed his fist into his gut, cutting off his words as the air was forced from his lungs and his body curled in on itself. It was only a moment later that his body went limp and unconsciousness claimed him.

Francis straightened, unclenching his fist that he had just used to harm the man.

"You need nothing more from him. Might as well untie him and take him back to his cell. Also-" he shot a warning look towards the Austrian. "he will now be put under my charge."

It didn't take long for the frown to reclaim the Austrian's face. He opened his mouth to argue, but the look that the Frenchman sent him was enough to make him halt. Clenching his fists he nodded angrily before marching out of the room.

Francis snorted. He had never liked the man, and he was reminded almost every day why that was. He returned his gaze back to Gilbert as his wrists were carelessly untied before the guards hoisted his body up by his arms. They then proceeded to drag him like along the floor like a useless sack, but soon adjusted their hold on him once Francis snapped at them.

o00o00o00o

Gilbert was in awe once he stepped from the cramped carriage, eyes gleaming excitedly as they landed upon the magnificent building before him. It was huge with marble pillars and beautiful white brick with intricate designs and figures carved along its edges. Gilbert was ready to bolt towards the entrance, but soon found he was being held back by a strong grip on his head.

"Where are you off to, brat?"

He pawed at the giant hand, trying to release it while also turning his eyes to stare up at his giant of a father. His excited red locked with threatening blue.

"_Vati,_ I- I want to explore!"

His father's gaze narrowed. "I didn't bring you here so you can 'explore'."

"But this is my first time ever visiting Versailles!" Gilbert screeched.

Alvar snorted amusedly. "This isn't Versailles, child. It's merely the council building in Paris."

Gilbert frowned. The building had looked so exquisite, surrounded by its beautiful gardens and verandas; he had only assumed it was the palace. He'd heard a lot of rumors about the beauty of Versailles.

"But I still wanna-" the child's voice was cut off by the low growl rumbling from his father's chest.

"I gave you one condition, Gilbert." his voice had a clearly threatening edge to it, making a chill run down his spine. "Only one. You told me you'd behave if I brought you along to Paris for this meeting. And by 'behave' I mean don't do anything! Don't run off! Don't talk! Just follow me and act mature for once!"

Crap. He should have known better. _Vater_ was always scary when it came to his job… no, scratch that. He was _always_ scary! Just more so when on business. He began to grow antsy as his body twitched and he began tapping his feet, wanting nothing more to be released and for his father to stop lecturing. He was ten for goodness sakes! He could behave!

"Gilbert, you aren't listening to me, are you?" It wasn't really a question with how flatly his father's voice said it. Yet Gilbert couldn't help but contradict his father anyways.

"_Ja_, I'm listening. I'll _behave_." he added extra emphasis to the final word, which did nothing but deepen his father's frown.

Gilbert expected more orders being barked at him, but instead the grip on his head loosened and he soon found his father kneeling to his level with his hands clutching his shoulders instead.

"Please Gilbert. You said you wanted to be a soldier someday, so you best practice now. I am on official business with our allies for the next few days, and as a soldier- no, as a Beilschmidt, you need to behave. I could have left you home, but with your _Mutter_'s health…" his deep voice trailed off, but it was enough to grab Gilbert's attention. His body relaxed and shoulders slackened. His usually smiling face etched with a frown.

"Okay _Vater_. I'll behave." he said again, this time without any sass in his voice.

Alvar snorted, finally satisfied with his child's response. His grip released him and he stood up with his back straight.

"Follow me."

So like a soldier, Gilbert marched after his father, keeping his face solemn and serious. Although it became harder for him to retain his serious demeanor once they entered the building, he was able to manage. He kept his quickened pace as to keep up with his father's wide strides, while managing to keep his wondering eyes to a minimum.

Yet apparently he hadn't been paying as much attention as he should have, because he soon found himself crashing into his father's backside when he didn't realize that the older man had stopped.

Gilbert hurried and straightened himself, head alert but shrinking back a tad, ready for his father to send an icy glare in his direction, but none of that came. His father hadn't even reacted, as he was now currently talking with another. Gilbert puffed his lips slightly. He had to admit that he felt a little more irritated than relieved that his father had ignored him. But it didn't last long as curiosity caught hold of most of his senses.

He tilted his head to the side slightly, trying to get a look at the man who his father was chatting with. He was a man with curly blond hair, tied back in a blue bow that matched the extravagant and long coat he wore. His large sleeves were strewn with white laces, nearly covering his ring-filled hands when he placed them on his hips. Red tights contrasted heavily against his light blue coat, but also brought Gilberts attention to the black, freshly polished, pointed-heeled shoes.

Gilbert had to hold back an amused giggle when he noticed his cheeks had been powdered. He thought only women powdered! But nope, he was dealing with a real noble here. An honest-to-goodness French noble! He'd only ever seen paintings of these sort of people, and he never expected to see any man dressed like that for anything other than for a portrait painting.

He was so unlike Gilbert's family, that it was funny! His father didn't like to be referred to as a 'noble' but they technically were. They were a famous military family after all, with connections to every king that Prussia has ever seen! And the Beilschmidt's ideas of 'dressing up', much like the other few nobles he had met in Prussia, involved heavily-medaled military uniforms, complete with a decorated sword strapped to the hip, (which was just for show) with maybe an expensive walking stick for the older gentlemen.

Gilbert didn't listen to the words the two men spoke until after he had finished scanning over the man. At first he was shocked, not recognizing the words, though he soon realized it was French. He began to listen intently, trying to pick up as much as he could. He'd had plenty of lessons, and was proud with his knowledge of the language, especially as it was considered the "language of the enlightened", but they spoke so fast, so smoothly, and were using too many advanced of words for him to understand. It was much different than it was when listening to his French tutor speak.

He recognized some of the conversation, such as mentions of the army and different movements, along with mentions of Spain. The Frenchman also seemed to veer his conversation to more than just military related subjects, such as his father's appearance. Gilbert grinned when he caught the man saying something about his face sticking like that if he continues to frown as much as he does. A growl from his father only confirmed that what Gil heard had been correct.

Suddenly his father was staring down at him, and he quickly straightened his posture and erased his smile, again, trying to appear like a soldier.

"The meeting will start soon, Gilbert. I need you to wait patiently here. And remember what I told you earlier, don't wonder off! Stay put and don't talk." he commanded, switching back to his native tongue.

Gilbert frowned, fighting off the urge to argue at how utterly boring that was! What would be the harm of quietly taking a stroll around the building? He wanted to see more of the architecture and strange nobility.

Alvar seemed to recognize what Gilbert's eyes were arguing, for his gaze hardened threateningly, as if telling him he'd soon find himself in a hole in the ground if he disobeyed.

Their gazes alone seemed to battle each other with their silent threats and arguments, but Gilbert was soon overcome. He fisted his hands behind his back and nodded.

"_Ja, Vater_. I understand. I'll stay here."

The Frenchman chuckled, his attention now resting on Gilbert with a smile on his face.

"Is this your son, Beilschmidt?" he asked, bending down slightly to get a better look of the boy. Gilbert automatically slithered behind his father at the Frenchman's gaze, causing the man to laugh more.

"Yes, unfortunately I had to bring him along. I hope you won't mind. He'll behave."

The last words were easily directed at Gilbert, making him roll his eyes. How many times did the man feel he needed to tell him that! He freaking knew already!

"You're no fun at all." The man joked, sneering at Alvar. "Children his age won't be able to last doing nothing for the length of our meeting."

Alvar didn't respond, and Gilbert was suddenly curious how long he was going to be forced to wait.

The Frenchman's gaze was again on Gilbert.

"Is this your first time in France? Would you like a tour?"

"Don't encourage him, Bonnefoy." Alvar warned.

"Pish posh! You're so stuffy!" he pouted back at the Prussian before looking back at Gilbert. Though he still spoke French, he was speaking at a pace Gilbert could understand.

"I have a son your age. I'm sure he'd love to show you around."

Gilbert grew excited, wanting to jump up and immediately accept the offer, but remained still, eyes glancing up to meet his "General's", pleading for permission.

His father gave a defeated sigh.

"You may leave, but remember what I told you earlier."

Gilbert smiled widely, "_Ja! Ja_! I understand, _Vater_!"

He was so excited that he had almost run off down the hall before the Frenchman had even directed him where he should go. After a brief explanation, Gilbert was off! He marched steadily down the hall while his father's eyes were still on him, but as soon as he turned a corner, he dashed the rest of the way. It didn't take long to reach the corridor that opened up into a closed off garden, filled with all sorts of rose bushes and white sculptures. In the center of the garden stood a large fountain, with stone fish spewing clear water several feet into the air and reflecting the sunlight in each droplet. But rather than the fountain, it was the two boys who sat at the base of the fountain that caught his attention.

The two were too focused with their conversation to notice his approaching steps. One began to laugh loudly, apparently finding something amusing about what the other had just said. He had a huge smile, appearing completely natural on his tanned face. His head was covered in a mop of unruly, chocolate colored hair, and it was hard for Gilbert to tell if his locks naturally flipped like they did, or if he simply refused to brush. Gilbert assumed the former.

The second boy had a very different sort of smile. Not large and radiating with happiness like his friend's, but a sly, closed lipped one. Humor was more apparent in his blue eyes. His expression held an air of nobility, yet Gilbert could sense the hint of mischievousness in it. His hair was of the same color as the Frenchmen's he had met earlier, and it too was slightly curled, well combed, and pulled back into a small pony tail.

"_Hallo_- ah, I mean, _Bonjour_!" Gilbert called out nervously, curious as to why he suddenly felt anxious. It was completely out of character. He'd never had problems with proclaiming his awesome self to others in Prussia, but these two seemed different than most he knew.

The boys halted their conversation when they noticed him. The blond frowned, raising a curious eyebrow to the newcomer, while the tanned boy grinned even wider. His hazel-green eyes brightened.

"Who are you?" the blond spoke up. His voice didn't hold any irritation in it, only curiosity.

"Ah-I'm- I'm Gilbert…. Beilschmidt. Your _Vate_- father told me he had a son my age and-" Gilbert's voice trailed off and he forced an awkward grin. He hadn't even realized that his hands had moved to fidget behind his back.

"_Hola_! I'm Antonio!" The tanned boy shot up, grabbing Gilbert's hand to shake it wildly, which, frankly shocked the German.

"Antonio Fernandez Carriedo! But you can just call me Antonio, or Toni if you like!"

(He spoke so fast that it was hard for Gilbert to catch all of it. And it didn't help that his voice held an accent that he didn't recognize.)

Once Antonio released his hand, he wrapped his arm around his shoulder (another action which made the German flinch. Nobody ever grabbed him like that! Not when they only just met!) and motioned to the blond.

"And that's Francis!"

"Francis Bonnefoy." he introduced himself fully, bowing his head in a curt nod.

Gilbert smiled as best as he could, nodding his head in response.

Antonio released Gilbert and roughly sat himself back along the fountain's edge, only barely catching his balance and preventing himself from falling into the clear water behind him.

"So Gilbert," he began excitedly, "You're German right? What brings you to France?"

"_Ja_. Prussian actually." Gilbert corrected, "My _Vater_ has a meeting here with some important allies, and I managed to get him to bring me along."

"You too, huh?" Antonio smiled. "My father is also here as a representative of Spain! We're here a lot! But not as much as Francis, of course. He practically lives in this building!"

"_Oui_." Francis nodded. " Papa is always here on some sort of business, so I know this place like the back of my hand. Would you like me to show you around, Gilbert? I know where a few passages are that can help us listen in on important meetings. Or better yet,-" he paused, that mischievousness Gil had seen earlier finally creeping over his face, "-the women's powder room!"

Gilbert's usual grin overcame his nervous one, and his mind willingly tossed out his father's words from his conscience.

"_Ja_, that'd be awesome!"

Francis grinned, standing for the first time the two had met, and grasping Gilbert's hand in his own.

"Gilbert." he said, his voice and eyes looking into his seriously. "I think I'm in love."

o00o00o00o

Gilbert awoke smiling. Though his mind was no longer taken by unconsciousness, it continued to play the scene in his head, proceeding with his nervous, incoherent blubbering, and the quick withdrawal of his hand. It was followed by the howling laughter of Antonio's and Francis's humored chuckles, and then a brief explanation that he was joking, and hadn't meant it how it sounded. Gilbert had still been weary of the French boy for a while, but as the day continued and the trio proceeded with their wild antics, his nerves had loosened and he was able to completely be himself. Curious how three boys, each of a completely different county, language, and culture, could feel so comfortable around each other.

Though the memory was sweet, it soon became bitter in Gilbert's mouth as his mind began to reproduce current memories. He shifted his stiff shoulders and neck, groaning as his stomach throbbed in pain, increasing when the movement opened the split lip that had previously been closed with clotted blood. Cheeks also stung and he knew he was probably bruised along his jaw line.

His vision returning to him, he found himself slumped on the floor with his back leaned against the cold wall of a prison cell. Across from him in the small, dank room was a small, beat-up, straw mattress. It was filthy and had stains on its surface which Gilbert refused to think about. He also wouldn't have been surprised if the thing was flea or rat infested.

His hands weren't cuffed, as most prisoners would have been. He thought that it should have made him happy, especially since they were already swollen red from being tied together earlier, but it didn't. It clearly showed how much his captors looked down on him. But why not? It would be hard enough getting himself from his position to the mattress across the room. They had nothing to fear from a man with one leg.

Gilbert breathed in heavily, raising his chin and leaning his head against the wall's surface. He was too weary to move. Both mind and body ached. He thought about allowing his consciousness to shut down again, when he felt a chill run through him, like he was being watched.

His lips formed into a sad smile and his tongue ran itself over his chapped lips before they parted to speak. He knew exactly who was there.

"Hard to believe how much time has passed by since we last saw each other." He didn't bother looking towards the scratched, wooden door with an unlatched slot, allowing any from the outside to check on him when they wished.

"It makes me laugh. We felt so powerful back then. Not even teenagers yet, and we felt we owned the world."

No response, but he didn't need one.

"Guess it just proves how naïve we were. How naïve I was. I thought we were friends, and would be forever."

"We were allies, but never friends." the familiar voice spoke up.

"Ah. So that's what it was." Gilbert answered, eyes staring at the wall ahead of him. "So our countries' alliances change, and so do ours. I suppose that makes sense."

There was a hint of bitterness laced in with Gilbert's final sentence.

"I was a fool to wonder why you'd stopped writing. Why we no longer discussed planned visits we knew would never happen, to Madrid, Paris, or Berlin, courting women and drinking ourselves to death.. But I guess after the war ended, our alleged 'friendship' did too. Tell me, did you continue to pretend to be my friend for that few years afterward just to humor me? Or was it until your country began leaning on the sides of the Hapsburgs that you finally decided to pull out?"

Francis was silent once again, but this time however, it made Gilbert mad. He clenched his jaw, his chest tightening with the stab of betrayal.

"Toni too. Is he here as well? Plotting my destruction right alongside you?"

"Antonio has nothing to do with this!" Francis spat back. His voice finally had some actual emotion resounding in it.

"He's in America! His country has nothing to do with this war!"

"No, but they've still taken sides!" Gilbert retorted. "Apparently the Spanish aren't very keen on Britain's accomplishments in America. It's only a matter of time before they officially turn on us as well for helping their enemy."

"Now you're just making a fool of yourself!" Francis scoffed. "We've known since the day we met that we would be soldiers! Soldiers for our countries! Our _separate_ countries! You can't expect a friendship to continue when we are fighting against one another!"

Gilbert relaxed, leaning more of his weight against the wall.

"I guess I am the fool. After all, I'm the one with a leg missing and in a jail cell."

Francis growled angrily.

"Look, Gilbert, I'm sorry, alright? That was a long time ago! Look at us now! We have such different lives now! We are enemies! There is nothing we can do about that now, unless you are suddenly willing to denounce your country and your title, which I seriously doubt."

Gilbert frowned. There was no denying his words.

"We are enemies." Francis repeated, his voice lowering slightly. "You are a Prussian Colonel and I am a French representative to the Austrians. I've worked hard for this position, and I will not allow my past to ruin that for me! This will be the last conversation we have like this, for I am your jailer, and you my prisoner! Is that clear!?"

Gilbert allowed his head to turn, and allow himself to look at his "friend" for the first time since their reunion. His narrowed, red gaze burned like fire. His face was resolute, and though anger and defiance were apparent, it was no longer the stare of an angered friend, but of a captive looking upon his captor.

"Crystal."

o00o00o00o

Gilbert had never truly understood how men could be so weak as to lose their minds after being imprisoned. Nor had he understood the true horrors of isolation. But it wasn't until he was left to wither in a prison cell without any sort of human interaction. The only form of interaction he had was when a guard would bring his meals. No one spoke but the door as it creaked open. At times Gilbert would exchange looks with who it happened to be that day. On bad days, his look was ignored. On good ones, a grunt or maybe a "here" or "eat up" would be given.

Gilbert curled his body in on itself, wrapping his arms around his chest and pulling the thin, ratted blanket over his nose. It was cold. He could tell it was winter, and had been for sometimes. Or at least, he thought it was. He didn't know what day it was, or how many days had passed. He had counted for some time, but during the winter months, the days grew darker and sometimes the light refused to shine through. It didn't take long for Gilbert to lose track.

When the sun failed him, he had begun using his meals to count. They wanted him alive, and didn't shirk on his food. Francis made sure of that. But after a while, he just stopped counting. He didn't know why. Was he tired of it? Too lazy to put his mind at peace and know just how slowly the passage of time moved? But it wasn't as if he had anything better to do?

No. Maybe he just didn't want to know how much time had passed.

He placed a hand over his shoulder, pressing lightly before doing the same to his stomach. His wounds still ached, but they had mended rather nicely. The Austrians had brought in a doctor a few times to check up on him, but after a while, even those had stopped.

Funny, when he had their attention, he wanted none of it. If he didn't ignore them, he snapped and cussed at them, demanding they leave him alone. Yet now that they did, he wished they wouldn't. Without their annoying chatter to make his blood boil, or Francis's face that practically begged for a beating, he had nothing to distract his mind from wandering.

What of the war? He couldn't quite remember the details of his last battle (other than the moment he fell, which continued to haunt his sleep with violent eyes and childish grins). Had they lost? Was Bradenburg taken? Followed by Berlin? No no, they couldn't have. While part of him decided against such a thought because of his pride, he also had some sort of reason left. If Prussia had fallen, then he wouldn't be here. There would be no purpose for his continued existence, and he would have been long killed. Why waste food on a cripple from a fallen country?

Prussia must still be fighting. That thought at least raised his spirits to a certain degree. Yet he didn't want to admit that it did stab at his heart a little that they would continue without him. But why not? This was war after all. And he was no king. The war wouldn't be affected with his capture. He should be grateful that it was him in this predicament, rather than King Frederick.

"They'll be just fine without me." he muttered to himself sadly.

When he wasn't thinking about the war, his mind moved on to more sensitive subjects. He wondered how his father was. He'd been traveling quite a bit, and last he saw him, he looked terribly stressed. He felt like the man was working more during this war then the last, and that was saying a lot. His father wasn't made to sit at a desk after all. And now that he thought about it, it was probably the constant traveling to the front lines and back that kept him sane.

He hoped the man was all right. He'd be lying if he said he hadn't been worried. He had always been. Even as a child, he had always hated waiting for him to return. Or perhaps it was better to say: _'if _he returned'. The thought sent shivers through his body (or was that the cold?) and it started to turn Gilbert's mind in a direction he always dreaded.

Was Ludwig thinking the same? All the pain Gilbert had experienced as a child, awaiting the return of his father, or for news that there wouldn't be a return. Had he forced his brother to feel the same? Was Ludwig still waiting? Did he still think he was fighting? Would he even know that anything was wrong? Still waiting with that beloved innocence he still held the last time the Prussian saw his brother? Or was Ludwig's innocence shattered with the horror of reality? Gilbert wasn't sure which he'd rather have his brother feel. The pain of waiting? Or the pain of loss?

Wait.

Gilbert's eyes widened. What loss? He wasn't dead yet, was he? No no, he established that a long time ago. He sat up from the straw mattress, staring at his lap. This wasn't like him. What happened to him who had been searching for a way out? Sending murderous glares towards his Austrian guards and whispering (and sometimes yelling) death threats.

A hand distinctively began pawing at his left knee; wrapping its fingers around the bobbed limb in a way that should be impossible. Hope fell again. What could he do with this? He couldn't even walk around his cell, let alone out of it, and for home.

Images of his brother fluttered back into his mind. Thoughts of tears marring those beautiful, sapphire eyes made Gilbert bite his lip guiltily. He said he'd come back, didn't he? And as long as he was alive, he'd could still fulfill that promise, couldn't he?

Asking himself so many questions began to irritate him. He wasn't the kind to ask questions. He was a man of action! But he had been changed when action was no longer possible. What was possible then?

Gah! Another question. The Prussian mentally berated himself for that. He retracted the hand from his severed limb and rested his palm on the back of his neck, rubbing as he thought.

His usual plan would be to escape, but he'd already decided that it was currently impossible. But then again, there was the fact that he was still alive. The Austrians intended on using him. But when?

His red gaze traveled to the dark window, situated high along the wall. The glass had traces of snowflakes on them. If it was winter, then there shouldn't be much fighting. Armies would be waiting; preparing themselves for their next strike as spring approached, which also meant that he'd be waiting for a while.

"_Es tut mir leid _Ludwig, you'll have to wait a little longer. But I'll be waiting too."

He lifted the blanket from his body, shivering slightly at the lost heat, and moved to the edge of the mattress. His body was stiff after being still for so long. He hadn't bothered to move around much since he'd been injured and had since lost most of the strength his body had possessed. He'd need to fix that. He couldn't allow what was left of him to wither away. And that included his mind.

He lay himself back down on his stomach before rolling himself off the mattress, landing face first on the floor. He winced as the contact with the floor jarred his body, but he tried to ignore it. The stone floor was cold against his cheeks, and for once he had been thankful for the warmth that his untrimmed facial hair provided him.

Gilbert straightened his arms out and dug his palms into the floor. Already his body protested at the action, not appreciating how it tightened and strained several long unused muscles. He took in a deep breath as he lifted his torso above the floor, with all his weight pressed in his hands and one leg. Just that action alone was tiring, and it was pathetic how his arms were already shaking violently, wanting to do nothing but release the burden and drop him to the floor's surface. His healing wounds didn't seem to appreciate the position either.

He didn't know how long he remained hovering in the air. He was already wearing himself out, and he hadn't even moved. Yet he knew if he moved down even an inch, his arms would give in and he'd crash to the floor.

"Come on." he spoke to himself. "It's just one push up. One stupid push up."

Slowly he began to bend his arms and lower his body towards the floor. His arms shook even more and it took every inch of will power not to let them collapse under his weight.

It wasn't until the tip of his nose was barely brushing the floor that a surge of victory suddenly coursed through him, and his lips formed into an exhausted smile.

"Ein-GAAH!"

Next thing he knew, he was lying face first on the floor, and if he thought his shoulder and gut hated him before, then boy was he wrong! And of course he now had the addition of a sore nose. He let his arms fall to his side and he panted heavily. His heart was racing, his limbs shook, and his head spun. He lay still until his body's protests began to calm down.

Taking in another deep breath, he reached his arms out again before heaving his body back into upwards position.

"_Eins_."

o00o00o00o

Gilbert released a tired groan as his head spun from the hit he had received earlier. He felt his nose running and it with the back of his hand. It came back with smeared blood. He clicked his tongue angrily. Another bloody nose. He was surprised it hadn't been broken by now.

For the last few months (or was it weeks? He still wasn't sure.) He'd really been getting on the Austrian's nerves. He'd sass and threaten the soldiers, mocking their stupid country and their stupid Empress and their stupid faces. They usually retaliated with a good kick or two to him. But nonetheless, he continued to rebel. If the Austrians were going to hold him captive, then he'd make it hell.

At nights he'd sing loudly, whether they were songs he learned as a child, Prussian anthems, or simply lyrics that he made up at the spur of the moment, he'd sing it. He partially did it for himself. To not let his mind wonder to darker subjects during his imprisonment. But he also loved how it pissed off any nearby Austrians. He wasn't that great of a singer, after all.

Though he had kinda asked for some of the beatings, he didn't always deserve it. Whenever a soldier was angry, whether with him or not, they typically enjoyed taking their anger out on him. Sometimes it was because the Prussians had made another victory over the Austrians in the war, and sometimes it was to rub an Austrian victory in his face. Either way, it at least it kept the Prussian informed to a small degree.

The beatings were never too bad. A bruise here and there and a little blood, but Gilbert had been careful to protect his wounds. Francis too, never let the beatings get out of hand, though he still allowed them to happen. Watching silently as Gilbert received multiple fists to the face.

The sound of the door opening caught Gilbert's attention. His shoulders tensed. Had they come back for more already? He clenched his fists, ready to fight back if he had to. He opened his mouth, ready to produce some foul slander for the unnamed guard, but closed it when a familiar figure entered the room instead.

Gilbert couldn't quite read the look on the Frenchman's face, which gave Gilbert chills. He'd always been able to read Francis's features as a child. But this man, was completely different than from the boy Gilbert knew.

They were both silent for a few minutes, Gilbert meeting Francis's apathetic stare with his angered one. Suddenly Francis raised a hand from behind his back, throwing what he had been holding towards Gilbert. It landed roughly on the ground and slid a few inches before stopping before him.

Gilbert flinched briefly when it landed, then began to take in the appearance of the object. His eyes widened as he realized what the contraption was. With the thick wooden rod with its flattened bottom, attached to a combination of leather straps and screws. It was a…

A smile flashed across Francis's face. So reminiscent to the ones that Gilbert once knew, and yet, there was still a darkness in those eyes that made Gilbert wary.

"Let's take a walk."

**Author Comments:**

**Sorry this chapter is a little later than I meant it to be. I had a lot of problems with this one…but hopefully everything came out ok.**

**I didn't like those Austrian soldiers enough to give them names.**

**Another reminder that I DID write a prequel to this! If you want to learn more about Gilbert's family (father, mother, Edelstein relatives) then please read! Background stories are fun!**

**It's the only other story I have posted besides this.**

**Please let me know any thoughts, questions, comments, or hypothesis's you have on this! **

**Thank you!**


	15. Everyone wants a Jelly Doughnut

_3 Oktober, 1760_

"Do you want to take a break?"

Ludwig shook his head, wiping the sweat from his brow with the sleeve of his shirt.

"I'm fine."

Alvar raised a brow, watching as his young son tried to regain his breath. He wanted to force him to rest, but if the 14 year old was so determined to continue, then he couldn't argue. In most cases he would have been proud of Ludwig's devotion, but now…things were just different.

The older man nodded, taking his stance and raising the wooden sparring sword. Ludwig did the same, adjusting his grip on the handle as he positioned his feet. Blue eyes locked for a split second before Ludwig lunged forward, swinging. Alvar easily parried the blow and took a step back to allow the boy to stumble forwards. Thankfully Ludwig caught his stance fast enough and he was able to swing around and block a strike from his father.

Alvar side stepped as he took another swing at the teen, aiming for a low sweep to his side, but Ludwig took a step into it. He used both his and his father's momentum to drive the blow back, causing the man to take a sudden step back. Had Alvar been in good shape, the step back wouldn't have done much, but his old injury was acting up and he nearly stumbled backwards. Ludwig took advantage of his father's footwork and lunged forwards, placing all his weight into the wood blade before him.

Alvar was late in blocking and the flattened tip of the sparring sword grazed his hip. It did nothing, but with the amount of pressure he felt, Alvar knew it would have been a deep wound had it been a real blade. If he had been a real enemy, then he'd have been too injured to fight properly.

"Good, you're getting the hang of it. Though your footing could use some work. You're far too rigid."

Ludwig took a step back and retracted his weapon before him. His eyes watched his father warily as he demonstrated. The boy attempted to do the same, though it was obvious that he still had yet to get the hang of the motion. However, considering it all, Alvar was impressed with how much the boy had improved over the last year. Even if the lad still found himself tripping over his feet at times, not used to his own rapid growth, which Alvar knew would only continue. (He was already reaching the middle his father's chest.)

"You're leaning too much weight in one foot. Unless you plan on anchoring yourself to one spot, you need to even it out to move on a minutes notice."

Ludwig wasn't looking at him, but he knew he was listening. Eye contact wasn't too regular with him anymore. Neither was any sort of conversation. If Alvar had thought it was hard to talk to his youngest before, it was much more difficult now. It seemed like it was only during practice that the two ever conversed.

The teen adjusted his feet before raising his eyes to meet his guardian's. He lifted his blade and readied himself for another spar. Alvar consented and soon the two were striking at one another again. The action brought back a painful sense of déjà vu, reminding him of the days he had sparred with his eldest. They were similar, and yet, it was interesting how different they were as well.

Gilbert's style contrasted heavily from Ludwig's. Ludwig's strikes were slower; more controlled. Sword kept close and body stiff so that his strikes allowed for less movement, but more technique. He had also begun utilizing his growing strength as well, adding that into each blow. Defense was his priority, while he didn't quite often take the offensive first unless Alvar required it of him while sparring.

Gilbert, however, relied on speed. He was quick to take the offensive, paring blows and striking again before his opponent even had time to adjust. He was light on his toes, feet fluttering around a sword in a swift, fluid motion, almost as if he were dancing. And though Gilbert's strikes lacked the power that Ludwig's did (or _will_ have), the man was able to utilize his enemies' own strength, combining it with his own momentum to land quick and heavy blows.

There was another difference, however, one that worried the man. It was the look in their eyes. It wasn't hard to tell that Gilbert had loved sword play, and practiced diligently in order to improve. His eyes would gleam with the excitement; the thrill of the challenge. Ludwig though, his eyes were dull and serious. He found no sort of joy in the practice, or if he did, Alvar certainly couldn't see it. And it wasn't as if he was being forced to learn. No, it was Ludwig who had approached him first, asking him to teach him the art.

Ludwig would practice often, probably as often as Gilbert had, but his eyes told Alvar he didn't do it for fun. He felt as if it was his duty, whether as a Beilschmidt, or as if he felt he owed it to his fallen sibling, Alvar was unaware.

Ludwig's behavior disturbed Alvar to no end. Though the boy had been busying himself with many things and was excelling in his studies, he didn't seem to be enjoying any of it. It was clear that Gilbert's death still haunted the young blond. So much that just the mere mention of Gilbert had become a taboo; a hknife that continued to twist in the open and festering wound that Ludwig still carried.

Alvar was a firm believer that time healed all wounds, and though they always left scars, they still healed. His eldest son was definitely not the first loved one he had ever lost, after all. But Ludwig…his wound hadn't healed, nor did it even show any signs of mending. The pain was still there, still clearly evident, but the teen had merely become used to it and pretended it wasn't there.

He wanted to talk to his son. He wanted to be stern and tell him to get over it. It had been over a year already, and he had to let his brother go! However, he could never get himself to utter a word. Had the situation been reversed, it would have been easy to chide Gilbert; to yell and lecture him, so why was it so hard to say the same to Ludwig?

'It's not as if the boy had lost everything.' That's what he wanted to tell himself, but he knew that was wrong. Ludwig really had lost everything, and it was Alvar's fault. He had felt he wasn't needed at home. He had put his country and career before his family, leaving Ludwig with nobody but his brother. And so when Gilbert died, Ludwig's world died. Gilbert had died, and took Ludwig's laughter with him, leaving behind a husk of what he had once been. So in reality, the war hadn't stolen just one of his children, but both.

It didn't take much more sparring before Alvar had to stop. He was getting too old for this, and with how much Ludwig had been improving, it wouldn't be long before he could easily defeat the older, handicapped man. He'd have to hire an actual trainer for the teen soon.

Ludwig looked over his father's tired form, relaxing his stance once he realized it was over. He too was exhausted. Sure he'd been training and working out lately to strengthen his body, but he still didn't have quite as much stamina as he would like.

He raised his grip on the wooden sword of his and strode over to his father to grab his, nodding and murmuring a "_Danke Vater_" as he turned to put the equipment away.

"Wait."

Ludwig paused, glancing over his shoulder so that his blue eyes met his father's. An eye brow arched curiously when he noticed the urgency in his father's face.

Alvar was still breathing heavily from his work out, but he couldn't allow Ludwig to leave just yet.

"I think it's about time we talk, son."

Ludwig frowned. "What about?"

Alvar wanted nothing more to break off the gaze, but he refused to do so. He had to do this. He had to keep eye contact. If he didn't do it now, he feared he never would.

"I think you know what."

Most people would have missed the way Ludwig winced slightly, but not Alvar.

"Can we talk about this later? I need to get to my studies." The teen asked, eye contact breaking off first. Alvar kept his eyes on his child.

"_Nein_. We need to talk about this now. It's already a conversation far overdue."

Ludwig bit his lip, shaking his head. "I don't want to. Please. Not now."

Alvar narrowed his gaze. "Ludwig, it's already been a year. When are you-?"

"It's not something I ever want to talk about!"

Alvar was shocked with the sudden raise in Ludwig's volume. And by the shocked look on his face, so was Ludwig. But that didn't suppress the rage that suddenly started to boil up in the man; starting to bubble past the guilt that had held him back for so long.

He took a few steps forward, crossing his arms angrily.

"What are you even fighting for? Do you even have a purpose?" Alvar growled out, causing Ludwig to flinch again. "Your brother certainly did, yet you don't."

Ludwig was staring at his feet. His voice monotone as he answered. "It's none of your concern."

Alvar snarled. "None of my concern?! Why wouldn't it be?! You are my son! Gilbert was my son! He was an adult! He could make his own decisions and choices, but you! You are still a child! And that makes it my concern!"

Ludwig was silent, though Alvar couldn't help but notice his grip tightening on the wooden swords so much that his knuckles had turned white.

"Answer me boy!" he ordered sternly, feeling like he did when Gilbert was young.

Ludwig shot a look at his father. His eyes just barely seen from behind his blond bangs with his head bowed. They were a mixture of anger and pain, and though it hurt Alvar to see such a look, he couldn't help in feeling slightly satisfied. That was the most emotion he'd seen in those eyes for a long time, which caused his anger to die down a bit.

He sighed, breaking off his gaze as he shook his head and pinched the bridge of his nose.

"Ludwig, you-"

"Master Beilschmidt!"

Everything seemed to be cut off with that one call, causing Alvar to grit his teeth irritably as he turned his head to the sound of the voice. Ludwig's gaze also seemed to follow his, landing on the small form of one of the maids they had hired. He would have yelled at her for interrupting if it wasn't for the tall, uniformed man standing behind the woman.

"Who are you?" he barked, addressing the soldier, the irritation clearly evident in his voice.

The maid immediately backed off, allowing the now slightly startled soldier to step forward.

"Sir, I have a message for you from the city council."

Alvar raised a brow.

"And?"

"Ah-, well.." the man was clearly nervous and though Alvar was quite accustomed to such, he felt as if it wasn't entirely caused by him.

"They are summoning you." the soldier finished, handing a small piece of parchment towards him.

Alvar's frown deepened as he stepped towards the man.

"Did they already forget that I have resigned?"

"No sir! It's not that, it's… the city! They need your help! Berlin is under attack!"

The soldier flinched at how fast the note was ripped from his hand.

o00o00o00o

Alvar stomped quickly into the meeting room, a hand placed firmly on Ludwig's shoulder as he led him along with him. Though their attempted conversation had long ended, he would not allow Ludwig to leave his sights. Especially after the news he had just received.

He was met by several familiar faces as he entered the room, though there were also a few he didn't know.

"Alvar, it's good to see you." General Rochow greeted him first, though there was hardly any happiness in his voice. Alvar nodded as he stomped towards them, releasing his grip on Ludwig once they had entered and muttered a few orders for him to stand to the back of the room. When he noticed the General's questioning look, he quickly answered with "My son. Hope you don't mind. He won't cause any problems."

Apparently the situation was urgent enough that the older man didn't care. He nodded before leading Alvar to the circle of men standing around a table. They wasted no time in getting to business.

"How much must you be briefed on?" an older man, who Alvar recognized as ex-Field Marshal Lehwaldt, who currently served as the city's official governor along with Rochow.

"Everything. I need to know why the hell there are Russians knocking at our front door!" Alvar answered, his voice angry yet controlled.

Rochow leaned over the table and pointed to the map. "They swept over the Oder River this morning, taking us by complete surprise. Scouts had reported that the main Russian army had been heading towards Guben, but a vanguard must have broken off and made their way here. They have made post along the west side of the city at the Halle gate." His finger traced over the city and the surrounding areas as he spoke.

"Numbers?"

"Roughly 5,600."

Alvar furrowed his brows. "That's not that large."

"Yes, but we currently only have a garrison of 2000 or so." another voice chipped in. "We believe the Russian's approach to Guben was a complete feint, and if so, we'll have some 17,000 Russians at our gates. Cossacks included." Rochow added.

Alvar scowled. The familiar uselessness of the Hungarians invasion of the city a few years earlier was becoming fresh within his mind.

"There is absolutely nothing we can do against those forces. We'll need aid!"

"Messengers have been sent out already. Our main forces have been concentrated in Silesia with the King and are weeks away. Our only chance would be to receive aid from Württemberg in Pomerania, and Hulsen in Saxony."

"We'll have to hold our own until reinforcements arrive."

Alvar ran a tired hand through his hair, sighing. "And what of the royal family? The archives, principal ministries and directorium? Has any movement been made to get them out?"

Rochow nodded. "They've been in Magdenburg since the Kunersdorf disaster last year"

Alvar exhaled. At least there was something to be relieved about.

"So far there haven't been much movement from the Russians." Lehwaldt cut in. His aged eyes filled with a long hatred for the Russians. After being in charge of Prussian's eastern force before being forcibly retired, no one else here knew the capabilities of the Russians as much as he did.

"Their General, Totleben," he spat out, slight venom to his voice at the mention of the name, "has summoned Rochow to meet him, while also demanding immediate admittance and 4million thalers ransom."

"We're already in such a financial hole! We can't afford to pay that!" another man added in, followed by a chorus of nods.

"And a response?" Alvar asked, directing his attention to Rochow, whose frown only deepened.

"Rejected, of course. But I don't know how we are to defend against a threat like this. We barely managed the last invasion, and with that we didn't have an entire army heading in our direction."

"So you're saying we should give up." it wasn't a question.

Rochow was hesitant to respond.

"No! We can't give up!" a loud voice shot in, receiving several eyes in his direction.

It took a moment, but Alvar soon recognized the middle aged man as Lieutenant- General Seydlitz. He hadn't noticed the man there before, and frankly surprised he was present. He knew Seydlitz as an outstanding Cavalry officer in the previous war, and heard plenty about his accomplishments in this one. The man had been brought to Berlin after being severely wounded at Kunersdorf, and so Alvar assumed he was still here to recuperate. Although Seydlitz was known and admired as a tactical genius, he was also known to be sickly. It was the same during the first two Silesian wars. Even the smallest of wounds could incapacitate him.

However, his presence here did nothing but bring Alvar joy. They could use him here!

"We are in the defensive! We have the upper hand!" Seydlitz's eyes gleamed determinedly.

"Our reinforcements are at least days away, but so are the Russians. All we need to do is to deter Totleben's vanguard long enough for our forces to arrive."

Every man had their attention locked onto the Cavalry officer, eagerly waiting to hear what he had planned.

"With Totleben's demands refused, it's only a matter of time before they begin attacking the gate. There are two other officers here besides me who can lead our troops to defend to gates of the city. We must also warn the citizens and try to get any eligible man we can to help."

Murmurs broke out among the occupants of the room, discussing the topic that had been laid before them. Alvar took that time to glance over his shoulder to his son, standing against the wall towards the back of the room. His wide, fearful eyes gazed met with his father's. Alvar's face softened and he turned back to the counsel around him. Things weren't looking good, but they at least had some hope. And even without that hope, Alvar still would have devoted himself to protect the city. He told himself it was his pride as a Prussian, the devotion to his Kingdom which had brought him back among these men to protect Berlin, but in the back of his mind, he knew there was another reason.

"We already planned for an invasion last year after the devastation at Kunersdorf, but we were saved by the 'Miracle of the House of Bradenburg' when Russian and Austrian invasion failed. But that threat is upon us once again, and we mustn't back down. We've been blessed with the time to prepare to fight this threat."

Alvar nodded, agreeing with Seydlitz's final words before they set their plans to action.

"_Und Gott mit uns_."

o00o00o00o

The steady, consecutive beat as thousands of pairs of feet marched over the plains. The clanking of muskets and equipment rubbing against each other. The strained whinnies of horses as they trotted forwards at a pace too slow for their liking. It was all so familiar to Gilbert-nostalgic, really. And it really was almost funny how different it all was at the same time. Almost.

Gilbert was no longer among the officers atop glorious steeds. He wasn't the one watching the men follow as they marched. He wasn't the one shouting the orders. Nor was he even among the grounded men, like he had been years before the war.

He didn't wear a uniform. No badges. Nothing to show his importance. His marching was slow and clumsy. His awkward steps sounded out of place among the thousands of Austrian troops. Rather than having his arms to the side, or gripping the butt of a musket, his wrists were bound together behind his back. Gilbert's shoulders had long become accustomed to the strain of being arched back, and the swelling in his wrists didn't bother him as much as they had days previous. However, something that did annoy him was how hard it had become to keep his balance with restrained arms, and he often stumbled because of it. Just like now.

The rough terrain, though it was rather flat, and to most feet, provided a comfortable surface to walk on. But to Gilbert's new appendage, nothing had ever seemed so uneven before. The wooden peg easily got caught in a small rabbit hole hidden in the brush, and Gilbert once again found himself face down in the dirt. By this time he already had a few cuts and bruises along his cheeks, which stung as even more dirt and pebbles dug into his skin and opened his cuts.

Despite the cool, autumn air, Gilbert was hot. Sweat ran down his face and moistened his body, doing its best to lower his temperature, but it only seemed to strengthen the weariness in his limbs. He rested his cheek against the surface of the ground; the cold soil feeling great to his red cheeks.

"Again? You used to be so fast; so graceful!"

Gilbert clenched his teeth, not needing to look to recognize that idiot's voice. It _had _been his only source of company this last year (or however long it had been), whether he had wanted it or not.

"_Se lever_." it ordered.

Gilbert tensed. He needed to get up. He couldn't let Francis have the satisfaction of finally knocking him down. He arched his shoulders and attempted to raise himself to his knees. But no matter how much he tried, his body had had enough, and wouldn't let him move. No matter if he had continued to work his body while in captivity, he still wasn't the same as he had been before Kunersdorf. Wounds had long healed, yet they still seemed to sap strength from him.

Then of course there was the newest addition to his body. The wooden peg leg. While it had given him back his ability to walk, it came with a price. The pain and strain of learning to walk again was still fresh in the Prussian's mind. Not only did it hurt his pride when he felt as if he had digressed into an infant, taking their first steps, the thing didn't forget to cause an immense amount of pain through the stump that remained of his left leg. No matter how tight the leather straps were that secured the peg to his limb, it couldn't stop the intense pressure and the uneven distribution of weight which caused the wooden leg to dig into his scarred flesh. It had taken him months before he could walk more than a few steps without his thigh pulsing in pain.

"If you don't get up, Lacy will leave us behind." Francis added, his words sounding much too casual for Gilbert's liking. The Frenchman had made it abundantly clear that they were different people now, and yet even after all the harsh treatment he was given by his jailer, the man always kept his carefree, overly familiar attitude towards him. It angered Gilbert to no end.

"Stand up. It's time to walk."

Francis's voice had a hint of sternness laced into them this time. The Austrian soldiers around him muttered impatiently. The army of Austrians had been ordered to be quick, faster than most armies regularly marched. They were in a hurry, to where, Gilbert still wasn't sure, but the fact that he had slowed at least this battalion of the army down, gave him a small sense of satisfaction. Even if it wasn't purposely.

Francis sighed, his voice becoming stern as he spoke to another.

"Get him up."

There was some shuffling around him before an arm on either side of him wrapped under and around his shoulders and he was easily lifted to his feet. The curved tip of the peg leg worked to get a good grip along the uneven soil, though he kept most of his weight in his right.

"Have you already given up today?" Francis asked, eyes looking down on him from atop his horse. Gilbert refused to meet his gaze.

"What was the point of me giving you that wonderful leg of yours, and teaching you how to walk, if you won't?"

Gilbert wanted to snap back at the man. To tell him that walking along the stones of his cells, the halls of the fort, or the cared for terrain of the Austrian camp was much different than this! That he couldn't expect him to suddenly be able to march as he once could with such a leg! Especially for as long and as fast as they had been marching! He was never given more than just an hour or two on the leg before, so how was he suddenly supposed to manage hours on end?

He wanted to say so much, but there was no way he would. His pride wouldn't allow it. A year of captivity couldn't break it that easily.

With Gilbert's refusal to answer Francis's face turned into a scowl. He glanced ahead of himself for a moment before returning his gaze to Gilbert.

"Take the leg and get him up here."

As Francis jumped from the horse, the Austrian hands released him. Without the added support, Gilbert quickly lost his balance and dropped to his backside (gaining himself a few new bruises in the process). Then in an action all too familiar to him, a pair of thick hands grabbed onto his shoulders, holding him back as another pair rolled up his pant leg until it revealed the leather straps that connected the fake limb to his flesh.

Like he always did, Gilbert struggled against them, but with the combined exhaustion and restrained limbs, he could do nothing, as per usual. He narrowed his gaze, shooting it at the man who removed the straps from his leg and stole away the support.

He hated it. He hated the leg. It was the wrong size. It was poorly made and splintered in places. The straps were old and the thing never fit correctly. But it was still his new leg. Though he was still clumsy with it, he was useless without it. But Francis and the Austrians had made it quite clear over the months that the leg was not his. It was theirs and they could take it back whenever they wanted to.

With his support gone, Gilbert could do little as he was suddenly lifted up into the air and placed carelessly over the horses back. Half of his stomach was lying awkwardly against the empty saddle and he had to adjust his position the best he could in order to escape the pain. It certainly wasn't the first time he was thrown against the saddle when he could march no more, and he doubted it would be the last. He was just happy that now that the Austrians were suddenly in a rush, they had little time to have their 'fun' with the Prussian. They had rather liked watching him being dragged behind the horse, listening to his pain filled grunts and moans as his body was roughly dragged over rocks and thistles.

In no time at all, the battalion began marching again- having to march extra fast in order to catch up with their fellow troops- while Francis pulled the horse along by its reigns. Gilbert wasn't sure how much time had passed by as he was slumped rather uncomfortably over the horse, body rattling and bound wrists being irked as the horse trotted, being treated as mere baggage. But he supposed that as a prisoner, that really was all that he was to the Austrians. And so, like baggage, Gilbert opted to act as such and remained quiet. It was something odd that had slowly become the norm for the usually loud man.

But with silence, thought was the only thing left to entertain the man, and in his situation, thinking wasn't always pleasant. Questions he'd been thinking for days, weeks even, began to plague his mind. Finally after so long, he couldn't remain quiet anymore. His pride tried to stop him from asking in order to prevent him from appearing any more useless, but at this point in time, Gilbert didn't think he could fall any lower.

"Where are you taking me?" he managed to get himself to ask, only loud enough for Francis and maybe the closest of Austrians to hear.

The Frenchman's head turned slightly, just enough for Gilbert to see one blue eye looking at him in mild surprise.

"Oh. Finally feeling talkative, _mon ami_?"

"The familiarity is unnecessary at this point, _Major_." Gilbert growled.

"But this is how I speak to every man under me." Francis smirked back.

Gilbert bit his lip in order to stop himself from cursing at the man. He was too worn to take any more abuse that day.

"What do you need me for? Where are you going? There must be some important reason if you're bothering to bring a prisoner along with a full sized army. And especially with the rush your General seems to be in."

Francis clicked his tongue and he turned his gaze away, contemplating whether he should say or not. But only seconds later, a sly grin formed on his lips and he turned his smug gaze back to Gilbert.

"If you must know so badly, the Russians are making a belated stop in Berlin, and we thought we'd join the fun."

Gilbert felt his body tense and his blood ran cold.

"T-to Berlin?" he repeated, too shocked to realize how pathetic his voice sounded.

"_Oui_." Francis beamed. "And it's about time too!"

When Francis noticed the confusion on the Prussians face, he released s soft chuckle.

"Oh, that's right. You've been in confinement these last 13 months!" he mocked, warranting a glare from his captive.

"After your country's fallout at Kunersdorf, I was so sure that the Russians and Austrians would finally be able to take your capital. But your king was able to regroup faster than they had anticipated, and the Russians? Well, they weren't ready to move. They had lost too many and their lines of communications were far too stretched. And with the Russians backing out, the Austrians did too."

Gilbert hung off of every word. This was the first actual news he had heard over the span of a year!

"People are calling it the 'Miracle of the House of Bradenburg'. And frankly, it was a miracle- a miracle that your Kingdom still even exists."

Gilbert took in the time to take in the words as a sense of Prussian pride flowed back into him. But there were still too many mysteries for him to be content with that.

"And what of the situation now? Has Prussia lost? Has Berlin been left unprotected? How large are your numbers?"

Francis snorted in amusement before he burst out into laughter.

"Getting a little nosey, aren't you? You know I can't tell you that."

Despite Francis's refusal to answer, that helped Gilbert. Had Prussia lost another fight of the scale of Kunersdorf, it would have been rubbed into his face. But the situation still worried him. Not only were these Austrians heading to Berlin, but the Russians had as well. He was unsure of the size of their armies, but apparently they were bold enough for them to attack their enemy's capital.

"What about my role in this? Am I to be traded?"

Francis shrugged. "I don't think there will be much of a point. But you have been ordered along. I assume that Lacy at least enjoys that fact that he has a prisoner he can use if the need arises."

A chill colder than the last one ran through Gilbert. He wasn't important. He was being brought to Berlin on a whim. Only 'if the need arises'? So if the need didn't arise, what would happen to him?

He knew what value lied in prisoners, and he knew what happened to them if they weren't needed. Rather than giving them the chance to be used against them again, it was always better if they were simply added to the list of casualties.

Gilbert twisted his wrists as if to check how tightly bound he was. They stung as the already irritated skin was rubbed even more by the rope, but Gilbert didn't seem to feel the pain. He had been struck with fear, and with fear, the instincts to escape surged through his body. But at the back of his mind, he knew that was impossible. If he _had _broken through the rope and freed his hands, what could he do? Crawl away? Hope on one leg? If he was going to kill himself in some stupid escape attempt, he might as well skip the part where he frees his arms and simply roll off the horse and attempt to continue rolling to safety.

"Hey Gilbert." Francis chirped, just loud enough for him to hear and immediately grabbed the Prussian's attention. It had been the first time Francis had called him by name since their reunion last year.

As Francis spoke these next words, Gilbert wasn't sure whether his tone shone pity, or mocking.

"Doesn't your family live in Berlin?"

o00o00o00o

_8 Oktober, 1760_

Ludwig huddled under the covers as another booming crack reached his ears from beyond the house. He quickly grabbed hold of one of the pillows and stowed the cushion over his ears, hoping to drown out the awful sound. He nearly jumped from the covers when another rumble shook against his house.

Ludwig had never been one to be scared of thunderstorms. In fact, he actually enjoyed them. Back when he was younger, he and his bru…_he_ would watch the storms from a wide window. Marveling at how the sky lit up with the dancing light and disappeared before its roar could even be perceived. This time however, even at his age, he couldn't help but be frightened. Not when he knew what was happening just outside the city walls.

Over these last five days, Ludwig had continued to accompany his father during his meetings. He wasn't even noticed by any of the Generals as he listened quietly to their strategies and news. The fighting had begun the day of the first meeting. Just as the Generals said, once the council refused the Russians entrance, they began attacking. Sporadically at first, but then continually from that evening until the wee hours of morning. He hadn't been to the western part of the city, but when the city had gone to bed, the cracks of cannons and muskets echoed over the walls.

Ludwig had relaxed once he heard the news of the arrival of reinforcements, and as the General's suspected, aid from the armies in Saxony and Pomerania arrived quickly. Swift cavalries were sent in advance to assist before the actual armies arrived, but it still calmed Ludwig. Fighting shifted from the gate to just beyond the city walls. But Ludwig knew that they would be fine. After all, with their new assistance, they easily outnumbered the Russians. The opposing force had backed off from Berlin, and Ludwig was foolish enough to feel relief; to allow himself to believe it was over.

Soon there wasn't just news of further Russian forces nearing Berlin, but Austrian as well. So even with the arrival of all 28,000 Prussians, they were outnumbered with the combined force of 35,600 Austrians and Russians.

Another rumble of thunder and Ludwig clenched the pillow harder over his head. He couldn't stand it! The roars, they could be anything! He wanted to believe it was all purely just the storm, but his mind wouldn't let him. It could just as easily be the roar of cannon fire, musket shots, or the cries of men as the fighting continued just beyond the city walls.

He felt himself begin to shake. After all this time, after all that he had heard about the war, after how much it changed his life, the war itself had seemed so distant. Almost as if the whole thing was a fabricated lie. But now it was here. It had found him. The fighting-the horrible fighting that had taken that person away from Ludwig forever; it had finally come for him. And it terrified him.

o00o00o00o

It hurt. It hurt so much. Like fire was coursing through his veins from the extremity. Gilbert clenched his teeth, denying himself to let out any noise. Hands clutched desperately to the tied cloth of his empty pant leg. How? How on earth could something that no longer existed hurt so badly?

Gilbert wasn't sure how much time had passed since he'd been haunted by this phantom pain. But it wasn't until it finally began to subside that he began to notice his surroundings again. He was no longer on a horse as he had been for these past few days, and instead found himself lying on the cold, hard ground. He glanced around him, noticing the chorus of shouts and the unorganized stomping of feet. This was no longer the balanced marching of the Austrians.

He noticed that around him stood rows of tents with supplies, but the thing that caught his eye was the size. It didn't seem large enough; possibly only big enough for a battalion or two. Though he supposed he could be wrong; he still couldn't see as much from his position. It was unorganized and was sparse of Austrian soldiers, not like the camps they had set up earlier had been.

Eyebrows creased as he tried to figure out why everything seemed so wrong. Suddenly eyes widened and he craned his neck around to see as far as he could behind him. His blood froze but his heart sped up when he noticed the walls beyond the clumps of tents and Austrian soldiers. How could he not recognize the outer walls of his capital; of his home?

Gilbert glanced around at the tents again while he listened to the chaos of the soldiers around him. It all made sense now. Only a small guard would be left outside the city, while the rest scrambled to get inside the city. And with how unorganized the soldiers were now, they were still clearly in a hurry. Why though? They were here now, why rush unless…wait, they were simply trying to get into the city. No fighting. No lines of fires or attempts to take down the gate. No…Berlin was already taken!

A surge of energy shot through Gilbert and he scanned the area around him. He needed to get free! He needed to escape from his captors and get into Berlin! With how unorganized the Austrians were at the moment, now was his moment of escape! But, could he even escape?

It wasn't until that moment that he realized that Francis was gone. In fact, there was only a single soldier near him, shooting him a bored glance every now and then before focusing his attention on other things. With his attention not on him, Gilbert began to fumble with his bonds; fingers searching the ground behind him for anything he could use. Even an edged stone would…Ah hah!

Fingers curled around the small stone, holding it tight to prevent himself from dropping it. He waited until he was sure no man was watching him before he began sawing the edge of the stone against his ropes. It was difficult to say the least. He was far too impatient for this kind of work; pricking and stabbing the stone's edge against his swollen wrists a few times. He cursed silently to himself when he felt the warm blood running down his arm and coating his fingers, making it even more difficult to hold onto the stone.

As the sounds of Austrians died down, Gilbert's breathing picked up. They were entering the city! His city! Intending to wrap their filthy paws on Berlin's treasures and harm the people! Gilbert tried rushing the process towards his freedom and the stone easily slipped from his slick fingers. Panic welled up inside him as his fingers grasped desperately to retrieve his tool. The fear intensified when he found himself unable to find it again from behind his back. He'd have to turn, to use his eyes in order to find it again, but if he did, he risked grabbing the soldier's attention or revealing his frayed bonds and blood soaked hands.

Gilbert's fingers continued to search blindly as he fought the urge to verbally cry out in frustration. Fingers dug into the ground, nails coming back up with dirt and pulled grass, but not the stone. He continued and continued until…a shot of pain shot from his wrists, causing him to stop his wandering hands and he winced. The rough strands of the rope had slid painfully against his cuts, arousing the severed nerves to finally send signals of pain that he hadn't felt until now.

Gilbert nearly cussed again at the pain when he froze; realizing something. He shifted his wrists carefully again, causing more pain, but instead of suppressing a pained grunt, he had to suppress a smile. The ropes, they slid!

The bonds had barely been loosened with the stone, but with the blood coating his hands, he may just be able to slide out of the hold. He knew it would hurt a lot, but he didn't care. He'd already been through so much! A little pain wouldn't hurt.

Trying to make his expression as neutral as possible, he began to pull against the restraints. He had to bite his lip to prevent him from growling as the rope bit painfully into his cuts. It took a moment of pulling before his hand suddenly slipped from its bonds and Gilbert perked up excitedly. He wanted to do nothing more than to relax his shoulders; to finally bring his arms forward and sooth his aching wrists. But he wasn't quite free yet. He still had a few obvious problems he needed to work out.

He tried to take in his surroundings without moving his head as much. He was lying in a secluded corner of camp; somewhere where it would be easy to store a prisoner. But thankfully for Gilbert, it was also a good spot for himself to remain hidden.

Sucking in his pride, he closed his eyes and began moaning, just loud enough to grab his guard's attention. He contorted his body and clenched his teeth, careful to keep his hands hidden and behind his back. He heard boots approaching him.

"What the heck is wrong with you this time?" the man snorted, prodding Gilbert's shoulder with his boot.

"It-it hurts! Please, help me! It hurts so badly!"

The Austrian clicked his tongue before smiling. "What hurts? Is it your stomach?"

And with his words, Gilbert received a quick kick to his gut. Gilbert no longer had to act out the pain on his face after that, though it was hard to keep his arms back from covering the wound.

"Ha! I guess I was right!" the Austrian laughed and he got down on one knee, so that he was closer to Gilbert's level.

"Now why don't you sit here quietly while we take your city? You won't want to miss this, do you?"

Gilbert was still getting over the pain in his gut. Healed or not, the old wound was still quite sensitive, and it wouldn't take too much for it to be reopened again.

He managed to blink open his eyes, crimson orbs staring murderously into his attackers. His lips parted as he spat back angrily, "No, I'd rather not miss it."

The Austrian could hardly react; couldn't make a sound further than a throaty yelp as Gilbert shot his hands from behind him, grasping the man's head and snapping his neck in a heartbeat. The soldier's body fell limply atop Gilbert, which he quickly forced to the side. His heart was racing and his crimson eyes darted around, waiting for an angry shout and the beating of feet fast approaching him. But there was no such thing. No one had seen him.

Using his hands to prop himself up, he grasped the neck of the soldier's coat and carefully began dragging him out of sight. It was hard, long work since Gilbert had to use one hand to pull the body and the other and his leg to help push them forward. During the entire ordeal, his eyes continued to flash warily around him; still expecting someone to come by and notice.

Gilbert found a patch of tall grass, hidden by the flaps of an empty tent, which he dragged the body in. It wasn't a very good spot to hide a body, but it was better than leaving him out in the open. This way he could at least buy himself a little more time before anyone saw their fallen comrade.

His hands shook nervously as he stripped the corpse of its uniform, removing the hat, white coat, trousers, musket, and right boot. He set those in their own pile in the grass. Having a disguise wouldn't do any good if he couldn't walk. He turned and dragged himself towards the edge of the tent, carefully glancing behind the white canvas for any sign of Francis or another soldier. Thankfully, he didn't, but he could still hear the distant voices of a few, which easily put him on edge.

Taking a deep breath, he crawled carefully from his hiding place, eyes glancing around for where his leg could have been hidden. They'd want it close if they intended to move him again. Or at least, that's what Gilbert hoped.

A quick scan of his surroundings told him it wouldn't be anywhere here. There were a few boxes of supplies lying about, but he guessed it wouldn't be kept there. He certainly wouldn't have kept something like that among important camp supplies. So that left only the tents left.

Quickly he scrambled into an open tent, but with how little was even inside, it was easy to see it wouldn't be there. Crawling out of that one he glanced around again, this time figuring he should use his head, rather than be rash about it. But that still didn't help calm his heart and the sense of urgency that made his ears ring.

If anyone was to have his leg, it could only be Francis. So if Francis had his tent set up in this area… Eyes began scanning for a larger tent. The Frenchman should be staying in this area (unless he had merely been placed there for the moment, in which case meant he was screwed) and would be staying in a tent larger than the Austrian footmen.

Upon spotting his target, Gilbert continued his crawl towards it, his speed picking up when he thought he heard what he assumed were approaching feet. Quickly he slipped into the tent, sitting up and pressing his back up against its edge, hoping he had remained unseen. It took all the strength he had to control his breathing, but even then, each breath he took was painful and echoed in his ears.

He listened for what seemed like an eternity as the feet neared….and then passed; the soldiers not even bothering to look through this little corner of camp. Gilbert relaxed his shoulders slightly, but he still found it hard to calm his heavy breathing.

A startled snort to his left caught Gilbert's attention and nearly sent his heart into a frenzy as his head shot towards the noise within the tent. He thought his heart would stop all together when he noticed the familiar blond figure lying on the cot. It took a moment for Gilbert to realize that the Frenchman was asleep and even snoring slightly.

In any other situation in the past, Gilbert would have mocked the Frenchman for the "unsophisticated" way he was slumped into the cot; his hair a mess and sticking to his sweat-covered face. But this was clearly not the time. All the blond had to do was open his eyes, and Gilbert would soon find himself with his arms bound again or worse. But at least Gilbert had found the right tent.

Slowly, Gilbert slid himself along the ground, not liking how close he had to get to the Frenchman to search. He started going through Francis's packs, ripping out an assortment of clothes and…more clothes. He moved to another pack of his things, but still, no peg leg.

Gilbert swore under his breath. The tent wasn't large enough to hide anything, so where the hell could it be?

Another snort from Francis grabbed the Prussian's attention, but thankfully the man remained asleep. Gilbert stared at the sleeping figure a little longer, hoping that his glare could give the man nightmares, when suddenly something caught his eye. There, still grasped in the man's hand, was the long wooden peg leg. Gilbert was thrilled to have finally found it, but still wanted to tear his hair out. How on earth had the man fallen asleep with it?! He knew Francis could sleep with anything, but this-?! This was ridiculous! He almost turned his head to look above him, asking why he was hated so much.

Carefully, he inched even closer the sleeping man, teeth biting into his lip nervously. Once he was close enough, he reached a single hand out, first prodding the object to see how tight Francis's grip on it was. Thankfully, it was pretty loose. The corners of Gilbert's lips rose as he raised his other hand, fingering the peg. Then with both hands grasping the object, he carefully slid the leg from his grasp. Francis's fingers twitched slightly, causing Gilbert to freeze, but no other reaction was made.

Gilbert released a breath he hadn't realized he was holding before backing up. He had to hold the peg in his mouth in order to use both hands to crawl out. Everything else seemed to zoom by. He was able to escape undetected from Francis's tent and managed to return back to his hiding spot among the stripped Austrian. He hurriedly changed into the uniform, glad no one he knew would see the way he wriggled on the ground to even attempt putting on trousers.

Once fully dressed, he moved to the leg. He had been forced to strap the peg to his leg so many times that it wasn't a problem now. His heart skipped excitedly once he properly secured the final strap, telling him to hurry up! He had all the pieces now, so all he had to do was to move!

Another quick scan around him told him there was no one to see him. Hoisting himself to his knee, he was able to prop the wooden leg into the ground, getting himself a good hold before hoisting the rest of his body to its feet.

He didn't wait a second. He tossed the stolen musket over his shoulders and the hat over his head, pulling it down slightly to help conceal his face as he marched off somewhat awkwardly. Only a few of the Austrian soldiers would actually recognize him, but he still wanted to remain undetected. Already his wooden leg would lead to some suspicion, as usually there wouldn't be a one legged soldier among the army (well, he couldn't be sure. It all depended on how desperate the Austrians were). So the uniform would only help with first glances. He'd still have to be as covert as possible.

Before he had even reached the gate of Berlin, guarded by only a few sentries (who were Russian, thankfully), he could already smell the crisp scent of smoke, rising from within. Teeth grit angrily as he thought of what those Austrians were doing to his beloved city.

"I'm coming, Ludwig!"

o00o00o00o

Ludwig woke up with a start. Already light was shining through the windows and lighting up the room. Glancing around, he noticed he wasn't in his room, but that person's. It was still just as orderly as it had been the day he had left and had been kept clear of dust, thanks to the maids. Ludwig never touched or moved a thing. He kept everything how it had been; keeping it the same as if its previous occupant would be returning to it someday. He didn't know why he continued to find himself there. He was trying to forget, yet for some odd reason, he always felt safer here. However, it was a habit that he was still working to break.

Jumping from the covers, Ludwig raced out of the room.

"_Vater_?" he called, remembering how he had left him at home the night before. But all he heard was his own voice echoing through the empty hall ways.

"_Vater_!" he repeated, walking down the hall and peeking into his parent's room. It was empty. Ludwig's browns knitted. His father should've been back by now. Did he leave early for another meeting? No, he wouldn't have left without at least informing Ludwig.

Suddenly visions of the night before, along with the events of this last week, began surfacing in his head; the reasons why he had woken up in that person's room becoming clear. When everything in the house was silent-something that had become the norm within the Beilschmidt household- Ludwig would be able to hear the sounds of Berlin. He would be able to hear the low chatter of voices and the clacking of carriages and feet against the cobblestone pavement. But now, he heard a different sort of sound.

It wasn't loud; not so distinct as to rouse someone to alertness, but it sounded different. It wasn't the usual sound of Berlin, but it wasn't the thunderstorm that had haunted Ludwig's sleep the night before.

Suddenly becoming nervous, Ludwig walked steadily toward the nearest window and propping the glass open. Immediately his nostrils were attacked by the smell of smoke while his ears were filled with terrified cries, angry shouts and the marching of feet. Ludwig didn't know how long he stared out that window, his mind spinning so fast that he couldn't recall what he was running through it. He didn't even realize when it was he left the scene, and he found himself flying down the stair case.

"_Vater! Vater! Wo bist du? VATER_!"

He ran into the kitchen, the parlor, the cellar, but his father was nowhere to be found. None of the servants were present either. Ludwig felt his heart beat pick up and he took a shuttering breath, back leaning against the wall of the last room he had checked. His legs, no longer being able to hold up his weight, slowly gave out, sliding him to the floor.

_Vater_ was gone. Was he in the city somewhere? Another council meeting? But then Berlin was under attack! The enemy forces were in Berlin! Houses were burning! People were screaming! What on earth was going on?! What of the generals and the council? Would they be captured? Or maybe even….

Ludwig grasped his head with his shaking hands. He couldn't finish the thought; couldn't bear to. This couldn't be happening! Not again! No! He couldn't deal with this again! He couldn't have the last member of his family disappear too! No! NO! NO!

Adrenaline began to run and he suddenly found himself on his feet, running through the house. He could hardly even think; but somehow his body was doing the thinking for him, as he soon found himself in his father's room, pulling out the long rapier that lay hidden under his bed. Ludwig stared at the weapon in his hands. He'd never used a real blade before. Only the wooden sparring swords, and the thought of wielding an actual weapon, knowing that he could very well spill blood that day, terrified him.

The rush he had felt earlier began to subside, slowly being eaten away by fear. He didn't want to kill anyone; neither did he want to be killed. Berlin had become the new battle field, and he didn't want to have any part in it. Suddenly the idea of locking himself in his room seemed much more pleasing. To simply wait it all out.

No. He couldn't do it anymore. He was tired of waiting. Before he had lived with the foolish belief that all he had to do was wait, and everything would be alright, But it wasn't. He had waited and had instead lost what was most important to him. He couldn't do that again.

His grip tightened on the weapon as he stood up and ran back down the stairs; almost running into the front door when he couldn't quite get it open fast enough. He dashed outside, slamming the door behind and took off down the street. There were plenty of townspeople out, though it was all very different and chaotic. People ran down the streets, heading towards the safety of their homes, others stood at their doors, watching the sky as it filled with the distant burning of houses, and others worked to board up their house or shop.

Ludwig ran against the flow of people, slipping into alleys and back roads that he knew well. It was a long way from his home to the palace, but he could manage. In fact, getting there seemed like an easy task until his short cuts led him into a busier section of the city, and he actually _saw _those soldiers. He saw coats of several colors, some green, others white, but whichever they were, it didn't matter. They weren't blue.

Quickening his pace even more, he flew across the street, trying to do whatever he could to avoid making eye contact with the soldiers. He didn't want to know what they looked like; didn't want to see those muskets and pistols held in their hands.

Making it across the street, he immediately turned on his heels and ran in the opposite direction of the marching group of men and slid down another back road. The noise grew louder as Ludwig ran further into the city. Unfamiliar coats became more frequent, as did the harsh voices, smell of smoke, breaking of glass, and many more sounds which he didn't wish to identify.

"Move it, kid!" a man yelled when Ludwig almost ran into him. Usually Ludwig would have given the man a polite apology, but the man didn't stay long enough; dashing around him as fast as he could. Ludwig watched the man disappear down the street for a moment before tossing his gaze around to see if the street was clear. He began to run down the next line of buildings when the sudden blast of gunfire caused him to dive down on the ground. He felt glass from windows of the building above fall on him, a single shard slicing his cheek.

By this time, Ludwig's breathing was rapid, and he could only guess that his eyes must have been wide and filled with apparent terror. He rose his head up warily, waiting for another fire of a gun before he shot back to his feet to continue his trek.

He turned a sharp corner and nearly ran into a few, giant, green-coated men, who looked at him curiously when he yelped in fright before darting around them. They turned their heads to watch him for a moment, muttering something in a language that Ludwig didn't understand. For a moment, Ludwig had feared that they were chasing him, but after turning a few more corners, when he finally dared to look behind him, he was relieved to find that they weren't.

His pace slowed considerably as his weariness began to catch up to him, but he refused to stop yet. He still had a long way to go, and from the looks of it, a lot to get through. He took a peak into the next street, noticing the presence of a lot more uniforms. He spotted a group of white coats, breaking into a merchants shop, laughing and greedily taking what they wanted. He'd noticed it a lot; soldiers breaking into houses, harassing the people, and he even witnessed firsthand as a man lit a plundered shop on fire after its owner had attempted to stop them.

Ludwig clenched his teeth. Where were their soldiers? Where were those dark blue coats, pledged to protect the city and her people? _He _never would have stood for this! _He _wouldn't have hesitated in rushing in and helping those in need. Ludwig shut his eyes, resting his head against the wall behind him. He had to find his father. He had to make sure he was okay. But Berlin-! They needed protection! But what could Ludwig do? He was only 14!

Swallowing, Ludwig opened his eyes. He had to rationalize. He couldn't do anything. As much as it hurt to realize his uselessness, he knew he couldn't do anyone any good. He'd only get himself killed.

He shook his head sadly, his grip tightening on his father's sword as he readied himself to dash off. At least, he was until he heard a shrill cry.

"Bruuuuder!"

He didn't recognize the voice, but it caused his blood to freeze. It sounded like the cry of a small child's. Shuffling his gaze out and into the direction of the voice, sure enough, he noticed a young boy, kicking and sobbing as he tried to escape the grip of a white-coated soldier. He cried out again for his sibling, small hand reaching out towards another boy, probably only a few years younger than he, but was currently taking a beating from another soldier.

Ludwig's hands shook and he felt like his lungs had collapsed. He tried telling repeating to himself that he couldn't do anything about it. Telling himself that he'd be killed. But this time around, his instincts overcame his rationality, and he found himself dashing out into the street towards the scene laid out before him. He hadn't even realized that he had unsheathed the blade of the rapier until he stood beside the soldier with the blade stuck in his stomach. Those wide, pain-filled eyes stared into Ludwig's, burning holes into his very being as he realized just what he had done.

As if the man was nothing more than one of his straw practice dummies, Ludwig retracted the blade from the body. Crimson blood began to stain the man's uniform; the red contrasting heavily from his white coat. His lips opened as if about to say something before his legs gave out and he fell to the ground. His motionless body caused Ludwig to shiver.

A terrified scream broke Ludwig's gaze from the fallen soldier, just in time to notice the approach of the other soldier. He had since dropped the child he had held and was now coming for Ludwig, drawing his own sword. The teen's instincts just barely kicked in as he blocked the Austrian's first strike.

"Get out of here! It's dangerous!" Ludwig called back to the two boys, who had finally reunited. The older sibling nodded quickly and he grabbed his brother's hand and rushed him off.

The Austrian man's swung pressed forward on his sword, causing Ludwig to falter back a step. He took another swing at him, which Ludwig just managed to dodge. He lifted his sword, preparing himself for his own strike, but the older man was too fast; too powerful, and Ludwig was left in the defensive. It took all of Ludwig's strength just to keep the sword at bay. Too many times his eyes watched the tip of that blade come within inches of his flesh.

As the man continued to attack, Ludwig began to remember his sparring sessions with his father. There were many times before when he'd find himself in this same situation; being pushed back further and further, unable to do anything but block. And it would always end as his father's victory. However, this was real. He knew that when it finally ended, he wouldn't see the dulled edge of a wooden blade stopped before his face, rather, in this case he hoped he wouldn't see anything at all. Hoped it killed him before he had to see it pierce his flesh.

Another strike and Ludwig took another step back, not noticing the stray pieces of rubble behind his foot. His feet slipped and Ludwig soon found himself stumbling backwards. The Austrian chuckled, reaching out his foot to kick at Ludwig's unstable feet. The kick did its job and the teen stumbled, just managing to twist his body enough so that he fell forward, catching himself with his hands.

But with his back to his enemy, there was no way he could stop blunt force as he struck the curve of Ludwig's back with the hilt of his sword, causing the blond to fall face first into the ground. He moaned painfully, trying to hurry and prop himself back up, but he was quickly met with the entire weight of the Austrian as he suddenly kicked him back to the ground. He remained on top of Ludwig, preventing him from moving any further.

The teen cried out in pain once he felt the knee of the man digging into his spine. He could barely hear the bitter laughs of the soldier from beyond his own screams.

"You're a skilled fighter, kid. But not good enough." He growled, grinding his knee further. "Now I can at least get rid of a future enemy soldier." He added, pressing something cold to the back of Ludwig's head. Despite the pain, Ludwig's cries ceased once he heard the click of a loaded pistol just beyond his ear.

His entire body stiffened and his eyes clenched shut, waiting for the skull-cracking blast, followed by pain and darkness. He was terrified. His head spun, begging him do anything he could! Begging for some kind of help! Begging not to die! But at the same time, in the deepest corner of his frenzied mind, there was one voice that said something else. It was asking for the gun to be fired. Not to get everything over with, but because it welcomed the shot; it welcomed death. It knew that if death came, so would Gilbert. He'd get to see his beloved brother again. It spoke again, its voice silent but seeming to drown out all other voices.

"I'm coming, Gilbert."

The shot fired, Ludwig's body tensed, and he felt warm blood splatter on his face. The weight of the Austrian atop of him, along with the cold barrel disappeared, and Ludwig suspected that was the feeling leaving him. Yet the disappearance of the weight was followed by a loud clump. His eyes shot open.

He found himself still lying on the ground; cheek pressed up against the cobblestone surface. He raised his head warily, staring in the spot next to him where he saw that same Austrian, his body lying in a motionless pile besides him. A steady pool of red began to form beneath him.

Ludwig couldn't get himself to move. He simply stared at the dead man, eyes eventually landing on the fallen pistol besides him. The pistol that he had believed would end it all.

"So naughty these Austrians are; taking Berlin as if it was theirs."

The accented voice caused Ludwig to jump, and he quickly shot to his knees, turning so that his back wasn't facing this new threat. That's when his eyes landed upon the giant figure above him. He was extremely tall, probably exceeding the height of his own father, with a chest just as wide. He was garbed in a green uniform, which contrasted greatly with his sharp, violet eyes. His wheat-colored bangs came to his brow, lengthening at the ears and circling his large cheeks. But what caught Ludwig's attention the most about the man was that despite his giant form, he his lips carried the long, innocent-looking smile of a child.

He managed to breathe out a few laughs as he cocked his head to the side; eyes scanning over Ludwig's form.

"_Privyet_, little Prussian."

* * *

**Author notes:**

**This chapter didn't quite come out the way I wanted it too…which really upsets me since I was so looking forward to writing this. But it ended up a lot harder than I thought, and I feel that I ended up rushing it….and it is already late as it is. Sorry guys!**

**Ok, so I finally got Microsoft word! Before I was simply using a program that couldn't do anything but spell check, and with how much writing I do, it's hard for my beta and I to catch everything. Well, now that I have word, I went through every chapter and fixed a ton of grammatical, spelling, and punctuation mistakes! I'm not saying they are perfect, but at least maybe your eyes won't bleed if you reread them!**

**By the way, I didn't have time to get this chapter to my beta. So I hope that it's ok.**

**Lots of History here, but too lazy to write it out. I'll discuss more in the next chapter since it will be based on the same event.**

**Please leave a review! I always have trouble sleeping the night after posting because of the anticipation! So PLEASE MAKE THAT LOSS OF SLEEP WORTH IT! REVIEWS PLEASE! (and maybe then I'll be able to write the next chapter in less than 2 weeks…..)**


	16. Dessert Comes Last

"Poor fellow. His body's been stripped, and it wasn't even by a woman." Francis muttered, looking over the fallen Austrian. He had been resting from their long march when he was rudely awoken by his Austrian guard. It was almost strange how calm he was about the whole situation. One of their men was dead, wearing only his undershirt and undergarments. And then of course, Gilbert was missing, along with that wooden peg-leg that Francis had held onto for the Prussian.

Soldiers argued around him, angry about what had happened, and demanded that Francis do something, but he simply tuned them out. He was far too impressed to listen to their outbursts. The footman's neck was snapped rather cleanly, and it made Francis wonder just how much strength their captive still had. He definitely hadn't deteriorated as much as most prisoners would have over the year Gilbert was detained, especially with the wounds he had sustained earlier. It also made him wonder just what the Austrian had done to allow himself to die in such a way.

Francis stood up and began scanning over the rest of the area; following the drag marks from the Austrian which led back to the last place Francis had seen his prisoner. There were traces of blood along the ground, which caused Francis to raise his brows curiously. There had been no other wounds on the body, last he looked. But upon seeing the frayed and bloodstained strands of rope, it was clear whose blood it had been.

The Frenchmen crouched over the spot, grabbing the crimson-speckled rope and turning it over in his hand. The knots were still tied firmly, and though the frayed edges showed signs of being cut, they were still intact.

Francis chuckled. There was no doubt that they had hugely underestimated the Prussian captive. Though despite it all, Francis wasn't surprised. He had almost been waiting for something like this to happen. He knew Gilbert, and he knew the German was capable of some pretty remarkable things, even in the condition he was in.

"What are we to do about this?"

Francis stood up, pursing his lips.

"The blood is still fresh, and the body still has traces of warmth. I'd say our captive hasn't been gone longer than a few hours or so."

"Then it should be easy to catch hi-."

"Hold on." Francis cut the Austrian Captain off. "He's impersonating an Austrian soldier. It's obvious he has made his way into the city, in which case he could be anywhere."

"All the more reason to find him! He's killed one of my men and is disguised as one of us!" he snapped at Francis before stomping off, barking out orders to his squad.

Francis frowned, standing up and following after the man.

"Don't be rash, Captain. You won't find him easily at this point. He knows the city better than we do."

The man reared on Francis, his lip raised into a snarl. "Don't you try ordering me around now, Bonnefoy! I allowed you control of the prisoner, but you lost him! Besides, he is no longer needed! Berlin is ours now! We might as well shoot the cretin!"

Francis clicked his tongue, bringing a finger to his lips.

"Oh, but if you recall the report, the city surrendered to the Russians, not to you."

The man's scowl deepened and he took a step towards Francis.

"You don't seem to care much about the situation, do you? You always have treated the Prussian differently! Even going out of your way to give him a peg leg for his handicap!"

Francis' eyes narrowed, his jovial tone disappearing.

"What are you insinuating, Captain?"

"That you planned this! You allowed him to escape!" he spat, quite literally, into his face. Francis scowled at the accusation, wiping his face with his sleeve before replying.

"And why on earth would I do that?"

"You must know him or something. From the start, you knew who he was."

"So what?" Francis snorted.

"And now you insist that we forget about this? Just let him escape into the city? I will not accept that!"

Francis sighed, shaking his head and rubbing his forehead. The man certainly did know how to pull on Francis' nerves. It wasn't the first time he had received an Austrian-induced migraine.

"And if you just stop talking then I can tell you my plan!"

The Austrian paused, his head cocking slightly. By the way he glared at the Frenchman, it was obvious he still suspected him of something, but he managed to hold his accusations back for a moment.

"Well?"  
Francis rolled his eyes. He's dealt with Brits who weren't as stubborn as this man was.

"At this point, just searching for him would be worthless. We need to send word into the city, ordering his capture. He shouldn't be hard to recognize, what with that wooden leg, nor would it be easy for him to escape a squad if he was spotted."

The Austrian watched him carefully for a moment before snorting.

"Fine. We'll send out a message." He agreed. Francis' shoulders relaxed, which surprised him. He hadn't realized he'd been tensing up.

"But there is one change I'll be making to that."

Francis raised a brow. "Oh, and what would that be?"

"I don't want this man captured. I want him killed."

o00o00o00o

Ludwig didn't know what to think. He couldn't think. His eyes no longer saw the corpses lying motionlessly on the ground beside him, slowly growing colder as the flow of red poured from their flesh and pooled on the ground. The smashing glass and distant cries of both citizens and soldiers faded into the distance. His mind couldn't register that the stuffy air that made his lungs heavy with every breath was smoke, nor did he feel the warm blood that had previously splattered against his white cheeks.

No. All he could see was the large soldier standing before him with that wide smile. Those violet eyes were staring into his, but he instead felt as if he were looking deeper inside of him. He wondered if the man could see his thoughts; smell his terror. All his ears could register were the soft, accented words, which slipped off his tongue in a tone that Ludwig couldn't ever hope to understand. It sounded merry, like a child playing a game. Yet it lacked the innocence and ignorance that a child's usually held. He knew _exactly_ what he had done.

A hand shot out towards him, causing Ludwig to flinch, expecting to receive the same fate as the man before him. But when he didn't hear the fire of a gun, or feel any flaring pain erupting through his body, his slowly reopened his eyes. Instead of seeing a pistol or a saber pointed towards him, Ludwig was shocked to see an empty, gloved hand, patiently waiting with outstretched fingers.

"Are you alright?" he asked, a certain mirth gleaming in his eyes.

Ludwig didn't know how to respond. He stared at the hand, confused, before daring to lift his eyes to the man's face. Was this some sort of joke? Did this soldier want him standing before he killed him?

When Ludwig made no attempt to grab the extended hand, the Russian's smile disappeared. He took a step forward and gripped Ludwig by the collar of his shirt, causing the teen to yelp as he was roughly dragged to his feet.

"See? You can stand." He commented, his smile returning. "Are you injured?"

Ludwig took an unsteady step back as soon as the hand released him. His mind reeled and his mouth opened, but nothing came out as his senses fought to respond. Instincts told him to run, or stay still and not say anything. But his mind couldn't quite comprehend what had just happened, or what was going to happen.

"I-I'm…" His tongue couldn't quite form his words, and his gaze was drawn back down to his feet where the Austrians still lay, dead.

"Hmm?" the Russian smiled expectantly, causing Ludwig's heart to jump. He wanted an answer! So answer him!

"I'm f-fine." The words finally came out, and the Russian straightened himself.

"Good." He said with a smile before it faltered somewhat and his gaze darkened. "It'd be in your best interests if you go home now." And with those words, he simply turned and began to stalk off.

Ludwig wasn't sure what had just happened or what to do, but he did know that he couldn't turn back now! He needed to make sure his father was safe. Without even realizing what he was doing, his body took a few steps forward.

"Why?" the question slipped out before he could stop it. The soldier paused mid-step, turning his head to once again stare down at the teen. Ludwig felt a chill run down his spine underneath that gaze. There was something very unnerving about him. Maybe he shouldn't have spoken up…

"Why?" the Russian repeated slowly, as if he was figuring out how the words tasted in his mouth as they were spoken. "'Why' what?"

Ludwig swallowed and he cast his gaze to the ground. He didn't know why he was asking, but the question sat at the edge of his tongue, urging him to ask.

"I-I don't understand. Why did you save me? Am I not your enemy?"

The Russian's smile was back to his face as he breathed out a chuckle.

"You do not look like a soldier." He answered plainly. "Nor are you pointing a weapon at me. Therefore, you are not my enemy."

Ludwig clenched his fists. The soldier seemed to take notice.

"Why? Did you want to die after all then?"

Ludwig's eyes widened and shot back up to meet those violet ones. The words had little effect on him, and that was what surprised him. It shocked him even more how long it took him to respond.

"N-no."

"Good."

And with those words, those giant hands landed atop both of his shoulders. It made Ludwig shutter upon contact.

"I like you. What's your name, young one?"

Ludwig once again hesitated to answer. Despite the friendly look the Russian displayed on his face, he had a different aura about him. Not necessarily murderous, but…there was something else there. And of course, the tight grip that he had on the teen didn't help either.

"Ludwig." He answered plainly.

The grip on his shoulders loosened slightly, but still remained firm.

"Ivan." he greeted. "Now that that's settled, it's about time you head home."

And with those words, the hands spun Ludwig around and began pushing him forward; the sudden movement causing him to stumble the first couple steps.

"Lead the way." Ivan chirped happily.

"Wait-! What are you-!?"

"Berlin now belongs to Russia. You are under my protection now, Ludwig."

Those words made a chill run down Ludwig's spine, though his body relented and he began to subconsciously start in the direction towards home; completely forgetting about his objective. His shoulders tensed underneath that controlling grip as he walked.

Along the streets, violence resumed, however, Ludwig noticed it was different. Those white-coated Austrians were not necessarily attacking the Berliners anymore, but instead, there were some groups that had gotten in a conflict with the green-coated Russians. Ludwig gasped when he saw another Austrian fall at the blade of a Russian officer, causing visions of his own blood-stained sword to shoot through his mind and making his stomach churn.

"Your city has already officially surrendered to us, and has even ransomed for protection." Ivan began to explain as he continued to prod Ludwig forward. "But the Austrians aren't too happy about it. Your country has caused a lot of trouble for everyone, and I think the Austrians are wanting their share of revenge."

"And you? What do your soldiers plan to do with us?" Ludwig asked quietly, his thoughts turning back to his father. "Don't you want to take revenge on us as well?"

"No. I am merely here to have fun."

Ludwig stopped mid-step, too afraid to dare look at the Russian behind him.

"Wha-what do you mean by that?"

"I want to crush this rising Kingdom. Like this city, I want to see the Kingdom of Prussia crumble. You Prussians have gotten quite full of yourselves these last couple decades."

Ludwig swallowed nervously.

"But…you won't hurt the people then?"

"You don't listen, Ludwig. Berlin is under our protection now." Ivan's grip tightened on Ludwig's shoulders, almost as if it was a reminder that he was there, and he was in control.

"Besides," Ivan continued. "After the war, you will be Russian citizen, да?"

o00o00o00o

Gilbert leaned his back against the stone wall, putting most of his weight against it as he craned his neck around the corner, his eyes scanning the streets. He breathed in heavily, trying to get enough air to sustain his lungs. He had only been out for a few hours, and yet his body was already exhausted. The stress didn't help either. Every eye that landed upon him would send his heart racing. All he could do was sustain his mask, to keep it from cracking as he continued down each street, praying that he wouldn't hear a shout or gunshot directed towards him.

Berlin was still chaotic. The invasion of the Russians and Austrians had set the city into a panic while the two armies tried to rein everything under control. There had been more than one occasion that Gilbert had to pass by the violence being dealt to his people. He had no other choice but to look away as houses were raided, shops destroyed, and people beaten. It pained him to ignore it. It caused his heart to twist and his stomach churn. He was a Prussian soldier after all! It was his duty to protect this people. But…

Pain shot through his hand as Gilbert rammed his wrist into the wall, though he didn't care. He clenched his teeth and dug his chin into his chest. What could he do? It took all of his mind and strength just to avoid detection within all this panic. He'd managed to catch word that the Berlin garrison had all been detained- safe thankfully- but they could do little to protect the city. For all Gilbert knew, he was the only Prussian soldier in the streets, and yet, he still wore that sickening white on his back. The same color as his peoples' attackers.

Another deep, but shaky breath. It was hard for Gilbert to accept this. That he was so useless. He had thought he had accepted it once his leg had been taken from him, but he'd been wrong. Seeing his home in such a state…he hadn't been ready for that.

His clenched fingers slowly unraveled from his fist and his shoulders relaxed. He had to get himself together. He needed to stick to his objective. He needed to escape from the Austrian's reach. Find somewhere to hide within the city until everything blew over. _If _it blew over.

Surely reinforcements would be on their way. If there was one thing Gilbert knew, he knew that Frederick wouldn't allow his capital to be taken for long. The main army would be arriving soon, and they would liberate the city; free it from her captors. But could Gilbert last that long undetected?

Within the chaos of the invasion, he had gone by unnoticed. But he knew it wouldn't last long. It was only a matter of time before the Austrian troops reorganized themselves. If a one legged Austrian footman wasn't already suspicious enough, a lone one was even more so. A soldier straying from his squad would already look suspicious enough to any officer. If anything, he'd be picked up first on the suspicion of desertion or disobedience before they realized who he was.

Gilbert rubbed a hand over his face. Soon it might be better if he just ditched the uniform all together…but that could still cause problems as well, especially if he still wanted to carry a weapon. And there was no way Gilbert was giving the rifle up!

He sighed, taking another look outside of the small alley he was hidden in. He was still tired, as it was still difficult walking as much as he did. It felt as if it took extra effort just to move an extra step. But he'd rested there long enough. He'd have to move again. He needed to take advantage of the confusion and get as far as he could. He'd also need to find more secluded spots to rest. It wouldn't take long for Francis to realize his escape and send scouts out for him.

Once Gilbert deemed the next road as clear enough, he shifted his weight from the wall and back to his legs. He took one last suspicious look around before leaving his hiding place. He turned sharply so that he strode just along the edge of the street, keeping himself close to the shops and buildings which he passed by. He winced with every step he took, as his handicap was only too obvious with the way his peg leg clacked against the cobblestones.

As he walked, he didn't see many soldiers. And those he did were on the other side of the street, paying him little mind and kept their attention on other matters. In fact, Gilbert had to take a double take at one group of Russians he noticed who were…were they detaining a couple Austrian soldiers? The idea both thrilled and frightened Gilbert and he hurriedly turned his head away and continued with his pace, not wanting the soldiers to notice him. He had to remember that he was one of those "Austrians" at the moment.

He had bypassed the group without detection and Gilbert let out a shaky breath. He couldn't stand the pressure of all of this. He was made to be flashy. To let his enemies know at even a mere glance that he was their enemy. But all this stealth crap? Sure he could do it, but it was such a pain. Not to mention how much wearing that blasted coat wounded his pride.

But so far everything had gone well. His presence had been ignored. Maybe this could all work out! He can make it across the city without incident-

"Stop!"

Gilbert's heart nearly stopped and he stumbled forward a step. Immediately fingers were at his side, itching to grab the pistol at his side while the other hand grasped the strap of his gun which hung over his shoulder. Slowly, he dared to take a look over his shoulder, praying that the call hadn't been directed towards him. But upon seeing a group of green-coated men walking in his direction, his stopped heart jumpstarted, beating hard against his chest as if its desire was to break free and leave its owner behind to deal with this dilemma on his own.

Pulling on his best mask, which just happened to be a grin, Gilbert turned towards the men, trying to look as casual as he could for a lone, Austrian soldier.

"What can I do for you Gentlemen?" As soon as the words left his mouth, he mentally kicked himself. He wasn't a colonel here! He couldn't act so familiar!

The group of men- Gilbert counted to be only three- stopped before Gilbert, eyes watching him suspiciously.

"What are you doing alone? Where is your commander?" the one in front spoke up, a young brunette with his dark hair reaching his shoulders.

Gilbert frowned. The man looked familiar. His first thought was that he was among the Austrians who had captured him, but since he was of the Russian army, that couldn't be it.

"I got separated. I'm searching for my squad right now." He answered, ignoring his previous thoughts.

The man lifted an eyebrow as his green eyes scrutinized him. It annoyed Gilbert, as he worked hard to keep a straight face under his gaze. Not to mention he noticed another member of their trio, a blond with choppy bangs and glasses, looking down at his wooden leg questionably.

_I can give you one just like it if you like it so much. _Gilbert thought angrily.

"Hurry and find your commander. We will no longer tolerate your men's reckless behavior within this city." The brunet ordered, his eyes still watching Gilbert carefully. Gilbert only nodded.

_ Gott, where have I heard his voice before?_

The trio turned their attentions away from Gilbert before he had even turned to leave, (which he was fine with for once) and beginning a conversation in what he assumed was Russian. He was only all too happy to take an unsteady step back and turn his back on the men. His heart was still racing, but the fact that he no longer felt like he'd throw up was comforting.

As normally as he could, Gilbert continued on his way, happy that things had played out for him rather easily, though he was still a tad suspicious of that. It had seemed too easy. But then again, the trio of soldiers themselves seemed odd. They themselves had seemed distracted, as if they were searching for something themselves. Or someone.

And that brunet. Where did he know him from? Gilbert didn't know any Russian troops, so why would… Gilbert's feet stopped a long with his thoughts. His eyes stared blankly onto the ground as memories replayed in his head. The memory seemed to click and Gilbert shot his head back towards the men he had left behind and suddenly it was all so clear.

All other previous thoughts and precautions were thrown out the window. Gilbert couldn't think properly as rage began to burn in his chest and everything lost its color. His scar over his right shoulder began to itch.

It was _him! _ The sharpshooter! At Kunersdorf! The one who took his victory from him! The one who took his victory and handed it to-!

He hadn't even realized he was walking towards the group, or that he had retrieved his pistol from his holster until he was once again standing before the Slav with the barrel of the pistol hovering over his head. The man's green eyes widened while the smallest of the trio cried out, "Toris!"

"Where is he!?" Gilbert barked, his voice fierce and eyes narrowed. His finger just hovered over the trigger.

Before Toris even had time to speak, his companions were already hurriedly reaching for their weapons.

"Move and I shoot!" Gilbert snarled, tapping the barrel against Toris' head. The murderous gleam in his eyes made it clear that he was serious.

Toris slowly lifted his hands in surrender, muttering a few words to his companions before meeting Gilbert's gaze.

"Who?"

"You know who!" Gilbert spat, "That bastard, Braginski!

Toris' eyes widened, yet he remained calm.

"Ivan?"

"Yes, Ivan! Now where is he?! He is here, isn't he?!"

"Yes but…"

"But what?"

Toris paused for a moment, not sure as to how to answer this maniacs question without getting himself shot.

"We don't know."

Gilbert cocked his head slightly, his frown deepening.

"You don't know?" he repeated.

"No. I don't."

Gilbert narrowed his gaze. His eyes shooting from Toris and back to his frightened companions. The one wearing glasses shifted his eyes between Toris and Gilbert with his hands hovering over his own pistol, simply waiting for an opening. The shorter one on the other hand, showed no such aggression. Instead his hands were clasped together nervously, his body shivering slightly. His eyes darted between Toris and the ground, as he was unable to make eye contact with the Prussian.

Gilbert snorted, his free hand shooting out to grasp Toris' shoulder. The action took the man by complete surprise as he was spun with his back facing his opponent, an elbow locked around his neck and a gun still pointed at his head.

"Let's go find your master then, shall we?" Gilbert whispered into his ear, the madness in his voice causing Toris to shiver.

"Toris!" both his friend's called back, attempting to take a step towards him, but he just held his hands out.

"Don't worry. I'll be fine." He comforted, but by the looks on their faces, it had little effect.

"I said don't move!" Gilbert hissed, taking an awkward step back with his captive, almost stumbling with his wooden leg.

"Now unload your guns."

Eduard growled, but the two did as they were told, emptying both their rifles and pistols of their ammunition.

"Good. Now if I even see your faces again, your friend here will die. Understood?"

The two didn't even bother to nod. The frustrated glares he received were more than enough to show they understood.

Satisfied, Gilbert did his best to back away, prodding his prisoner along with him but keeping his eyes on the other two. As soon as he spotted an opening, Gilbert took it, grabbing the back of Toris' coat and pushing him into an alley before rushing in after him. Wasting no time, he pointed the gun at the man and nodded for him to continue forward.

"Move! Now!"

With a gun to his back, Toris obliged, moving in a quick pace through the deserted alleys, turning when his captor told him to turn, and stopping when he told him to stop. They continued like this for at least 10 minutes when he was once again ordered to stop. Gilbert at this time was breathing heavily again. He was unable to run with his handicap, but he had pushed himself to walk at a quicker pace, as he needed to get him and his captive far away from his companions. He leaned his back against a wall, taking in deep breaths but keeping his eyes on the Russian soldier.

"What-" the brunet began but was quickly shut up once Gilbert straightened his pistol in his direction once again.

"Shut up" he panted. "I don't want to hear anything…from you."

Toris narrowed his gaze, not sure what to do. Why on earth was this man doing this? He obviously had some sort of vendetta against Ivan (which wasn't that surprising), but how did know that Toris served under him? Or better yet, what did Ivan do to this _Austrian_?

"What do you have against Ivan?" Toris asked anyways, ignoring the threats. He believed the man would shoot him if he resisted, but doubted he would for simply talking. But then again…he wasn't sure how mad this soldier was. The way he had just suddenly snapped after Toris allowed him to go was almost frightening.

Gilbert's shoulder ached.

"You don't remember me?" his voice hoarse and hushed, but still held plenty of malice.

Toris shook his head.

A low growl rumbled from Gilbert's throat.

"You shot me."

"I shoot a lot of people."

"A year ago. Kunersdorf. You shot me."

Toris raised a brow. "Why would I shoot an ally?"

Gilbert cursed. "Maybe it would jog your memory if I was wearing a blue coat, two legs, and a hole in my gut and shoulder."

Toris crinkled his nose at the description. It didn't make much sense…Wait!

"You!" Toris' face was one of complete shock.

"But you-! Those wounds-! You should be-!"

"Yeah, well obviously you Russians don't know how to kill someone properly." Gilbert snorted, ignoring the fact that he too had been surprised that he was alive when he had first awoken.

Toris took a nervous step back. Things had just gotten a lot worse. He remembered this man. He remembered specifically how Ivan toyed with him. How he tortured him after he had fallen. How they had allowed him the small taste of victory, only to snatch it away and dangle it in front of his face like a slab of meat. And now, this Prussian hound was thirsty for their blood.

"Are you going to kill me then?"

The Prussian was silent for a moment as his gaze stabbed into Toris', making him stiffen nervously. Finally his stone-like gaze faltered to the side briefly.

"As much as I'd love to pay you back with your own bullet wound, Braginski is the one I want."

Red irises shot back up to meet his, nearly burning in intensity. "The sooner you find me him, the sooner you are free."

Toris clenched his fists angrily. "But I told you! I don't know where he is! He disappeared on his own! He never tells us where he goes! He could be anywhere!"

"Then you'll just have to get used to having a gun in your face."

o00o00o00o

Ludwig didn't know what to do. He had been forced to go all the way back to the manor, and to his alarm, he realized that he had left his father's sword behind. But that wasn't what troubled him the most. The fact that he still didn't know the whereabouts of his father worried him.

The determined part of himself wished to go back into the city; to find his father no matter the cost. But the other part of him couldn't get the previous events out of his mind. He had killed a man. He had someone's blood on his hands. The actions of the soldier didn't seem to matter to him. He didn't know the man. He could have had a family. He could have had someone waiting for him to come home; someone who will now never see their loved one again.

He wanted to find his father, but he didn't think he could kill again.

"Is something wrong, Ludwig?"

But luckily (or unluckily, Ludwig still wasn't sure) Ludwig's decision was already made for him by Ivan, who had so graciously invited himself inside.

"Just fine." The teen answered, averting his eyes away from that violet gaze. He still wasn't sure why, but the Russian made him feel extremely uncomfortable, and the fact that he was now inside his house made it even worse.

"Do you have anything to drink?" Ivan asked, taking a few steps forward to see more of the house. "Vodka, perhaps?"

"No. Just beer." Ludwig answered, a little apprehensively. He doubted his father would appreciate him sharing his stash with a Russian.

"Nyet." Ivan refused, wrinkling his nose in disgust for a second before returning to his smile. Ludwig relaxed a bit inwardly. At least, until Ivan began investigating more of the house. Ludwig could only follow him, making sure he wouldn't take or destroy anything. He didn't want to be with the Russian, but he couldn't stand just letting him roam his family's house unattended. Besides, there were certain rooms he'd rather he didn't enter.

"This is a beautiful house." Ivan commented. Ludwig nodded, but Ivan continued before he could properly thank him for the compliment. "It could easily become a target for the Austrians. That is, if they would dare consider it after a prize such as Charlottenburg."

Ludwig's eyes widened.

"They've taken the palace?"

"Да. And making a fine mess of things." It made Ludwig shiver at how casual the Russian's response was.

Ludwig didn't seem to know what to do with his hands as they fidgeted together. He didn't want to jump to any conclusions now. There were plenty of places his father could be.

"Oh, what's up here?"

Ludwig nearly jumped when he noticed Ivan begin his way up the stairs.

"Wait! Don't go up there?"

Ludwig might as well not have said anything at all with how little the Russian reacted. He continued his long strides up the stairway as Ludwig scrambled after him. Although Ludwig nearly ran into the man's back when he stopped mid-step.

"Who is this?"

Ludwig wrinkled his brow, arching his head around Ivan's giant figure to see just what he was referring to. However, as soon as he did look, his face went pale and he backed up a step. He reached a hand out to grasp the stair rail, his knuckles turning as white as his face.

"That's my _bruder_." He answered quietly, his heart jumping into his throat. It was the one painting Ludwig could no longer stand to look at. Why did Ivan have to look at it?!

"Hmm." Ivan's eyes were glued to the picture.

"Can we…can we go back down stairs?"

"He is a soldier, yes?"

Ludwig shrunk back, eyes on the floor.

Ivan's eyes left the portrait for a second only to glance at the German.

"He's dead."

Ludwig winced. Ivan's words sounded more like a statement than a question. Ivan took his silence as a confirmation.

Ludwig glanced up at Ivan, who he noted was no longer smiling. Instead, his face was contorted into one of thought and confusion, something that oddly looked out of place on him. He careened his neck forward, eyes carefully scanning over the painting and mumbling to himself in Russian.

Suddenly his eyes widened.

"When?"

Ludwig's grip tightened on the rail. Why was Ivan even interested in this? He didn't want to talk about it! Why didn't anyone understand that? However, there was a part of the young German that forced him to answer.

"A year or so." His eyes were back to studying the floor. Or at least, they were until laughter reached his ears.

That smile was back on his face, yet it was different. It no longer looked childish, but had a dark, amused aspect to it. His eyes shown with some sort of recognition.

"That's very interesting." Ivan laughed, turning on his heels so he was facing Ludwig.

"I should probably be going now, little one. I have some friends I need to meet up with."

The Russian's smile grew and he patted his shoulder gently before pushing past him and stomping down the stairs. Ludwig was once again left unaware of what to do. Instead he remained on the stairs, his icy blue eyes staring at Ivan's back.

"Stay inside, Ludwig. You may not be as lucky as you were today."

He cracked open the front door, taking a step out before stopping.

"Oh, and one last thing." Ivan grinned, turning to face Ludwig. "You bear a striking resemblance to one of the councilmen, biding for your city's protection."

Ludwig felt his knees weaken.

"Just food for thought."

And with those words, Ivan disappeared behind the door.

o00o00o00o

Traveling was slow going. It was clear to see that the Prussian was in not much of a condition to travel. His stance was tense and rigid, and there were multiple times where they would have to stop and rest. Toris would still be full of energy since the pace they had been traveling at was nothing to sweat over, but for Gilbert, he was clearly pushing himself. Thankfully it was clear that he had at least had enough practice with the wooden leg, as he kept his balance rather well, but his body simply wasn't used to the strain. But despite it all, throughout the whole thing, Gilbert was sure to keep a firm hand on his pistol, ready to aim and shoot at any given moment, much to Toris' distress.

Toris still didn't know where they were going. Gilbert had been directing them along the outskirts of the city where there were many more routes and alleys, and much less soldiers. The Prussian was still set on his revenge on Ivan, yet he seemed to have another destination in mind, and simply hoped he'd run into Ivan on the way. Or…maybe he didn't want that. The apprehension that flashed in the man's eyes every now and then, just for a split second even, told Toris that maybe he was hoping for the opposite: hoping to not run into the crazed Russian at all.

"Gilbert." Toris inquired, having only learned the name of his captor after the use of several straight-faced nicknames. "Hasn't it been long enough?"

"Shut it." Gilbert barked. "I'm just…just waiting for the opportune moment to move."

Toris crossed his arms as he cocked his head to eye the street.

"Well now is clear enough. Unless you feel you need more time to rest."

"You're just asking for a bullet lodged in your skull."

"Perhaps." Toris shrugged.

The two were quiet for a moment. Gilbert ran a hand through his sweat-covered hair, mentally cursing his body's weakness, especially during such an important time.

"By the way," Toris broke in again, his eyes not making contact with Gilbert's. "where is it that we are headed?"

Gilbert bit his cheek, adjusting his weight to his feet and pushing himself off from the wall that served as his support. Ignoring the question entirely, he nodded for the man to move, tapping his pistol on his back for emphasis.

"Move."

Toris obliged, marching into the street with the cautious Prussian following behind him. The sun was already beginning to set on Berlin, casting sharp shadows on the city. The two carefully moved into the street, taking advantage of the shadows as much as they could. The city was quiet. The yells of soldiers and cries of women had since quieted, and thankfully so did the shattering of windows and cracking of doors. The Austrians had had their fun, and were quieting down, while the people holed up inside their homes, waiting to be liberated.

Gilbert moved along onto another street, hissing for Toris to move faster. They still spotted patrols parading the streets, putting Gilbert on constant alert. They had just turned onto another street, appearing as casual as they could, a single, one legged, apparent Austrian, with no company other than a single Russian soldier. Yeah…they didn't look out of place at all. Gilbert started to wonder if it would have been safer to not have taken the hostage at all.

"Hey! You two!"

Nope. He should have stuck it out himself. Being alone was so much better.

"Halt!"

Gilbert cursed. He hadn't even noticed the patrol of Austrians which had just rounded the corner. He just about knocked Toris off his feet when he suddenly rammed him forward with his shoulder.

"Go! Go! Go!"

Toris was a tad shocked to say the least, but he did as ordered, advancing into a run.

"That's him! Don't let him get away!"

Toris let out a bewildered yell when he suddenly heard the crack of gun fire and the window of a building next to them exploded.

"What did you do!?" Toris cried out as he started in a full run. Gilbert was moving as fast as he could behind him, his steps still awkward.

"I may have killed the man who wore this coat previously."

"May have?!"

More shots were fired, some just barely missing Toris, causing him to become frantic. They turned a sharp corner and started down another street. They could hear the angry yells and echoing of boots following after them, causing Toris' heart to race. He had just reached the opening of a narrow alleyway when he glanced back, noticing Gilbert still a ways behind him.

"Hurry up!"

"You don't think I'm trying?!"

Once Gilbert reached Toris' spot, he paused, causing the Slav to nearly have a heart attack in anticipation.

"Hey, how many of them were there?" Gilbert asked, his breath ragged.

"Six, I think. Now let's go!"

But the Prussian didn't move. Instead he grabbed his rifle from his shoulder, aiming it carefully in their chasers' direction. Toris didn't know why he stood there, waiting for the man to follow him when he could easily escape. No, his mind wasn't anywhere near clear enough to think that way.

As soon as the first Austrian made an appearance, turning into their sights, Gilbert fired, hitting his target dead on.

"Only five now." He smirked.

"Great, now move!" Toris cried out, grabbing Gilbert's sleeve and pulling him into the alley, breaking into another run.

More yells rang out after them; continually ordering for them to stop, but the shots the fired with the voices persuaded them otherwise. Toris even felt a bullet fly right past his head, ruffling a strand of his hair as it zoomed by. He wanted to cry. Why did he always get stuck with the most troublesome people?

A short cry from behind him suddenly caught his attention, causing his feet to slow.

"Keep running, idiot!" Gilbert shouted. Toris obeyed but he couldn't help but notice the man grasping a spot on his arm where the white fabric was stained red.

Toris stepped out into another street, but backed immediately when he noticed another Austrian squad far off, not eager to have even more soldiers joining the chase. Not knowing where else to run, he scanned around quickly, noticing another turn not far back. Dashing towards it, he glanced back over in Gilbert's direction. The red was much more prominent as it stained most of his upper arm, and he still far back. Toris waited a moment for the Prussian to catch up, and as soon as he did, without even thinking, he snatched his uninjured arm and threw it over his shoulder, ignoring the sudden protests the man screeched at him.

"What are you doing?"

"You're too slow." Was his answer as he helped Gilbert along, turning the next corner.

The noise got louder as their pursuers neared, causing Toris' adrenaline to pump so quickly into his blood that he was practically dragging the one-legged man with how quickly his feet were moving.

"It's no use. We need to hide." Gilbert hissed, Toris nodding rapidly, though not really understanding what should be done about it. Finally Gilbert nodded towards a door along the shadowed walls. A back door of some type of establishment along the street further up.

Without waiting, Toris shot to the door, not even noticing when Gilbert grabbed his pistol from its holster, shooting the lock before the brunet could even reach for the knob to check. He jumped slightly at the sudden shot, but wasted no time in getting the door open and practically throwing Gilbert inside. Gilbert swore as he fell against the floor boards with his injured arm, but Toris paid him no mind as he slammed his body against the door, holding the knob firmly. The noise neared, and he prayed that they wouldn't notice the door, let alone the hole that was once the lock.

They were dead silent. Toris could hear his heart pounding loudly in his ears, wishing for it to shut up else they be heard by their pursuers. Many minutes passed in silence. The two didn't dare to move, even after the voices and stomping feet faded into the darkness. Toris wasn't sure how much time had passed when his strength gave out and he fell against the door, sliding down its surface as he breathed heavily.

It was painfully dark inside the room, their only source of light coming from the hole blasted in the door. But even that was hardly anything to go by as night approached the city. Toris couldn't even make out the Prussian's figure on the floor ahead of him. The only proof that he was there was the sounds of his breaths.

Finally he spoke up.

"That was way too close to be funny."

"And it would have been funny otherwise?" Toris interjected, receiving only a grunt and the ruffling of fabric as Gilbert sat himself up.

"Where is this, anyways?" Toris asked, squinting his eyes as they gradually became accustomed to the darkness.

"Don't know. But it's dark and quiet. And surprising, I'm okay with that."

Toris wasn't sure what the Prussian meant by that, but didn't ask. Instead he got to his feet, carefully walking around with his hands out, ready to catch himself if anything got in his way.

"What are you doing?"

"Investigating. Maybe we'll find something useful. Like some candles."

"Just don't try to do anything. I'm sure I can still shoot you in the dark."

"Fair enough."

Toris carefully stepped around the room, hands soon finding the wall and feeling his way forwards. He felt a couple cabinet drawers, as well as some racks and a few boxes littering the floor. The air was musty and smelled as if the room wasn't used commonly.

Once his fingers landed upon a door, he opened it slowly, hoping to not find anyone on the other side. Faint light filtered into the room through the cracks and once the brunet decided it would be safe, he opened the door completely, allowing the faint light to enter the room.

They were in a storage room of some sorts. Toris craned his head further outside the door, noticing the dark, empty room, illuminated only by the large windows which faced the street. He noticed he was behind a large bar, with empty shelves containing little more than a few glasses and wooden trays. Glass covered the floor, remains of the bottles that once stocked the shelves. On the other side stood several wooden stools that were knocked to the floor and dirty tables holding empty and abandoned bottles and glasses.

"This is a-"

"A tavern!" Gilbert finished for him. "Awesome! Is there anything left?"

Toris almost chuckled at the sudden childishness in the Prussian's voice. It was certainly something he hadn't heard from him before. The Slav didn't even have to answer before he heard Gilbert getting to his feet, his wooden leg clacking on the floor. He approached Toris, cursing when he noticed the condition of the bar.

"Already been raided. Those _arschlochs_." He growled before turning his back on the demolished room and back to the storage area.

"We'll stay in here for the night. I don't like the size of those windows."

Toris nodded, closing the door slightly, but leaving it open enough to let some light in and get rid of the mustiness of the room.

_Back to being a prisoner then, I guess._

o00o00o00o

"They aren't even trying to capture me anymore." Gilbert grumbled as he tied a shred of his coat around his bleeding arm, thankfully it had only been a graze. He was sitting on the floor, back up against a large crate (which, to his disappointment, wasn't filled with alcohol). His pistol sat carefully in his lap and his eyes would shoot from his work on his arm and to his prisoner every couple seconds. Toris, merely leaned himself against the wall, his eyes closed as he breathed deeply.

Once the wound was properly bandaged, he sighed, placing his head back against the crate as if to relax, but his eyes were kept on his prisoner. Time passed and finally Toris' eyes opened, his green eyes meeting Gilbert's gaze.

"You should get some sleep, Gilbert."

"I'm fine. I just need to sit for a while. I can go without sleep."

Toris didn't respond. He knew Gilbert just didn't want Toris to escape, or better yet, kill him during the night. The idea caused him to roll his eyes. If he really wanted to escape, he could have done that plenty of times by now. Why he didn't, even Toris didn't know. He had just gotten caught up in the moment.

More silence followed, making Toris feel uncomfortable. He shifted his position against the wall, parting his lips as he worked to form the question that he wasn't sure he'd get an answer to.

"How are you still alive?"

Gilbert was silent. Toris exhaled, moving his gaze away until a voice grabbed his attention.

"I'm too awesome to die. So much that not even that monster Braginski can get rid of me. Not that easily." Toris snorted at such a response, knowing that he'd receive nothing more than that.

"And you. How can you stand being around that man? You can't tell me that you like him."

"You should know better than most that one doesn't get to choose their superiors, Gilbert."

A brief pause before "I guess not all armies can be as great as ours. You Russians-"

"Lithuanian, actually." Toris cut off. "There's a difference. Different language, culture, history…"

"Then why Russia?" Gilbert asked.

Toris shrugged. "Not sure. I started in the Lithuanian army with the Polish, but one thing led to another and I was transferred to the Russian army. Things were looking up for me for a time as I climbed the ranks as a sharpshooter. But then my skills caught the eye of Ivan, and I've been stuck in his personal little squad ever since."

Toris couldn't see the blonde's face, but he knew he was probably scowling at the mere mention of the Russian. Though it was still difficult to see in the darkness, Toris' eyes dropped to look at the outline of the wooden peg where a leg should be.

"What are your plans? You obviously have more in mind than revenge on Ivan."

Gilbert was silent again, pursing his lips while he mulled over whether he should say anything.

"I-I have a certain destination in mind. If I can make it there, I may be able to hide out there for a while."

Toris felt as if there was something Gilbert was leaving out.

"And where is that? If you're going to drag me all the way there, I have the right to know." He prodded.

"As my prisoner you have no right." There was more of a humorous note to his voice than anything else. Toris didn't think he'd say anything further. In the short time he knew the other man, he had at least caught onto how Gilbert usually wrote things off with sarcasm.

"But I suppose I do owe you an answer." He added quietly, causing the Lithuanian to look at him in surprise. Gilbert was thankful it was so dark in the room. He could feel his face heating up at the mere memory of needing the help of the brunet earlier. If he hadn't had helped he might have…no, no. He would have been just fine. The fool just got in his way. He was just lucky he hadn't shot him in the shoulder again.

"I'm going home."

"Huh?"

"My home. It's here. In Berlin. I figured if I could make it back there I'd be able to hide out there for a bit. After all, I doubt I'll be able to do much more in this war with, well, this" He lifted his wooden leg slightly as he finished.

There was a brief pause before Toris suddenly snorted and began a hushed laugh.

"Oi!" Gilbert snapped, a mix of confusion and anger at the Lithuanian's reaction. "What's the big deal?"

Toris quieted his laughter. "I'm sorry. I'm just surprised you actually have a heart."

"Yeah, and I'm surprised I haven't shot you yet."

If Toris had been bolder, he would have joked that he beat Gilbert to it, but figured he'd better not.

"Do you have family waiting for you?"

Gilbert tossed his head to the side, biting his cheek as his eyes stared blindly into the surrounding darkness. Were they waiting for him? Did he ever cross their minds at all? He had been gone for so long, he doubted they even noticed his absence any more. His father was probably too busy with the war (but the thought of his old man stressing over the current situation nearly brought a smile to his lips). And Ludwig? Well, he didn't even know where he would be. For all he knew, Ludwig could still be in Austria with Eliza and Roderich. In fact, he hoped he was. He hated the idea of his beloved brother being stuck in the city at a time like this. And wasn't that the whole reason why he had had the boy stay with their cousin anyways?

Toris didn't pry anymore once it was clear Gilbert wouldn't say more. He readjusted his position once again. He was tired; the events of the day finally catching up to him and making his lids droop. It didn't take more than a few minutes for the blinding darkness to eerie silence of the wounded city to lull himself to sleep.

Toris awoke once during the night. His eyes opened tiredly but saw nothing. He did, however, hear something. He heard the deep, snoring of his companion. His lids shut again and his lips arched into a small smile before sleep took him once again.

o00o00o00o

"Do you even know where we are anymore?"

"Of course I do!" Gilbert scoffed, looking offended. "I grew up in this city! Only an idiot wouldn't kno…"

"Go on. Finish your sentence."

"Shut up! I'm trying to think."

Gilbert poked his head around the corner, eyes peeled as he scanned his surroundings. After a minute he frowned, pulling his head back.

"Those blasted Austrians turned me around!"

"Don't blame it on the Austrians."

"How many times do I have to tell you to shut it? Man, you're just begging for a pinecone to the face."

"Why a pinecone? Wouldn't a rock be more effective?"

"Never underestimate the use of a good pinecone. It may not crush like a rock, but they can scratch your face off."

Toris sighed. "Getting back to the topic on hand, which way do we go from here?"

Gilbert brought his hand to his chin, scratching it as he thought.

"I was keeping towards the outskirts of the city, and by the looks of it, we still are. We need to avoid the busy streets at all costs. I'd say we continue forwards and see where to go from there. I haven't been away from Berlin for that long. I'm sure I'll recognize something."

"Great. Then lead the way."

Gilbert raised a brow, snorting amusedly. "I don't think so." He tapped his fingers to his pistol for emphasis. Toris frowned but understood, stepping ahead of Gilbert into the street. Gilbert watched him carefully as the Lithuanian walked casually forward, as if he wasn't even a hostage. When he had awoken early that morning, he had nearly had a heart attack at realizing he had fallen asleep, and grabbed his pistol, fully expecting the Lithuanian to be gone. So it had been a great surprise when he woke to discover the brunet still there, and still asleep. Nor did Gilbert wake up with any bodily injuries.

Once Gilbert had determined it safe enough, he carefully strode out of his hiding place, acting just as casual as the Slav did as he crossed. Once he did, he kept close to the side, walking behind abandoned food carts and crates along the streets. He gave a nod to the Lithuanian to continue forward as well. Gilbert kept himself at least at a 10ft distance from the Slav, but was sure to keep him in his sights.

The two continued like this for a while. Staying out of sight as much as possible, striding upon the side of the roads or alleys when they could. There were people outside today. While many remained locked in their houses, others emerged, needing to continue with their way of life. Besides, the Austrians had calmed their raids with the intervention of the Russians, making Berlin a tad safer. Men returned to their shops, and women to their vendors, even attempting to bargain or sell to the patrols of soldiers themselves.

Initially, Gilbert had suspected the presence of the Berliners would make things more difficult, but on the contrary. They did wonders for him. Sure he was still given dirty looks for the horrendous coat he wore, but he wasn't bothered. Plus they distracted the soldiers. Gilbert had once hated those greedy street venders, hounding at you to buy something for an outrageous price, but now, he didn't think he could love them anymore.

Things continued like this as time flew by, taking longer than Gilbert would like because of his body's weakness, but at least it wasn't as eventful as the day before. But apparently Gilbert had thought to soon when suddenly Toris turned a corner, only to shuffle back quickly. Gilbert froze as the Lithuanian nearly backed into him. His face was pale and eyes wide, as if he had seen a monster.

"No good. We need to find another way." Toris urged, grabbing Gilbert's arm to turn him around. The Prussian growled, ripping the arm from his grip.

"This is the fastest way! How many Austrians are there anyways? We may be able to sneak by them."

Toris hesitated before answering "30."

Gilbert frowned. "You suck at lying. If there aren't Austrians then what is it?"

Pushing aside the Slav, Gilbert trudged forward as best as he could. His leg had become quite sore after having to move so much and so quickly with the peg.

Toris tried to stop Gilbert, but he quieted him with a sharp glare before he too, peered around the corner. He didn't see the Austrians he was expecting. Nope. No white coats here. There was a group of Russians however, but they had never been a real problem in this expedition. Although, once he began to scan through the group, his eyes widened and he felt that he might have gone as pale as or paler than the Lithuanian. Toris really had seen a monster.

Within moments, white hot fury flared in Gilbert's blood. He bore his teeth and hands shot for his rifle. Alarmed, began to try to reason with the Prussian, but Gilbert could hardly hear the man as his blood pulsed in his ears. His body had begun to ache; his leg more than ever, and even his gut, which had left him alone for a while, began to pulse, making his churning stomach even worse.

As fast as Gilbert was to grab his weapon, he only did that much. His hand was frozen, but still grasping the weapon as if to bring it to position at any given moment. His red irises were staring ahead, unable to take his sight off of the very man who ruined his life.

He felt fresh sweat beading his forehead as the new waves of pain clawed at his body. Oh yes. Even his body remembered the damage that had been done. It demanded satisfaction. However, why then couldn't he move? Anger called for action. Called for revenge. But there was another emotion that Gilbert would never admit to, pulling on the back of his mind and causing him to stop. Fear.

He only too clearly remembered those violet eyes; that twisted smile. It was the face that haunted his dreams. Kept him awake in the darkness.

"Gilbert."

Toris' voice suddenly ripped Gilbert from the mixture of emotion surrounding him. He ripped his eyes off of the beast and shot to him.

"You can't kill him."

Gilbert took in a hasty breath. "Yes I can."

Toris only frowned.

"He's still human. I can kill him. It'll be easy." The words were silent and shaky, hardly holding the bolstering confidence that the Prussian usually possessed.

"Besides," Gilbert continued, a crooked smile of his own consuming his face. "He's in the way. I have to get rid of him anyways."

Toris opened his mouth again. "No, you can't. Even if you did manage to kill him; managed to get a lucky shot on him, your cover would be blown. The soldiers with him would swarm you in seconds. You'd die."

"I should already be dead because of him."

"Really? Then why not die right now?"

The familiar click of a pistol clacked in his ear, causing his eyes to shoot back to the Lithuanian, who had grabbed Gilbert's pistol and was pointing it at his head. His face was solid, showing little emotion to it, although his green eyes flashed with something. Though Gilbert could hardly recognize what it was before it was smothered.

Gilbert's twisted smile disappeared and his glare landed on the brunet.

"How foolish of me. I grew too lax around you."

"Whether I like it or not, Gilbert, Ivan is my commander. I cannot stand by while you plot to kill him."

"So now death really is my only option." Gilbert muttered, his eyes leaving Toris to go back to the tall Russian, who was so casually chatting with some of his men, unaware of the hatred his existence was causing just around the corner.

"No, it's not." Toris shot back, grabbing the Prussian's attention once again. "You can forget about this. Continue home. Forget about Ivan. Don't put all the work you've done to get here to waste."

Gilbert clenched his fists. The idea infuriated almost as much as the Russian did. Just let him go? Let him continue on with that childish smile of his, with no consequence of what he did to him?

"Don't you have family to return to?"

Gilbert's face fell as those simple words were like bullet to the heart. Sense began to return to him, telling him he had no other options. If the Lithuanian didn't shoot him first, he was sure that another soldier would. And what if he didn't kill the Russian? The thought of being killed by that man once again sent a terror through his soul far deeper than any emotion had ever reached.

And then there was his family. He was little use to them dead. He desperately wanted to see them again. He wanted to tackle his little brother into a hug. He wanted to wipe the tears he knew the kid would shed while he laughed and proclaimed his awesomeness. He wanted to mock his old man. He wanted to see that stone face twist in annoyance and then feel the pressure of one of those fists knocking against his head. He wanted the visit he promised so long ago that was violently taken from him.

Gilbert took in another shaky breath. The look on his face was one of pure defeat and longing.

"What do we do then?"

Toris' mask broke, revealing a relieved smile and he lowered the pistol from Gilbert's head.

"I'll distract him. He'll be awfully…_curious_ to know where I've been and what happened. I can lure him away while you sneak passed."

Gilbert nodded. "Fine. We do it your way."

Toris nodded as well before giving Gilbert back his pistol.

"Please don't do anything stupid."

Gilbert snorted. He'd been told that plenty of times before, but who would have thought the same thing would be said from a soldier within the Russian army? Or one that shot him, for that matter.

Without another word, Toris was off; marching down the street in a line straight for the Russian party. Gilbert watched carefully as Ivan noticed the Lithuanian, his eyes lighting up and smile growing as he welcomed back a lost comrade. From the distance, Gilbert couldn't tell, but he suspected there would be a hint of anger hidden behind that cruel smile of his. He hoped the brunet wouldn't be punished for being 'captured'.

Once Ivan's back was turned on Gilbert, and he seemed thoroughly interested in his dear comrade, Gilbert slipped out on the street. He kept his face firm and eyes forward. He dared not look at the Russian again, for fear he might freeze up of let his anger get the best of him. No, he tried not to think about it. Instead he kept his mind solely set on what awaited him. He could picture nothing than that small blond with those brilliant, light blue eyes.

o00o00o00o

It had taken Gilbert longer than he thought to reach his destination. His leg began acting up as the strain of the last few days took its toll, requiring to venture from his course a few times to find a safe place to rest. He had also nearly had another run in with an Austrian squad, but thankfully was able to hide before they managed to identify him.

It was nearing nightfall when the familiar building appeared in the distance. His heart leapt and he was overcome with so much excitement that he feared he might trip himself. His heart rate rose and his stomach felt like it was filled with butterflies. He'd never felt so nervous in his life, but he was all so excited as well!

He'd see his brother again. Even if the lad was still in Austrian with their cousin, he'd write him. And as soon as everything calmed down, he could go to him. He would hug Ludwig and never let him go. He'd take Roderich's glasses and hide them in his piano so that the instrument would fall out of tune. He'd then flirt with his wife (he assumed they had still gotten married during his absence) and probably end up with a black eye.

Gilbert was so caught up within his dreams that he nearly missed sight of the two soldiers. Upon seeing them, he backed away immediately, ducking himself behind a beat-up fence along a nearby house. He waited for a moment, not knowing if he should take the risk and poke his head out to see. Thankfully though, he found a small hole along the fence, just large enough for him to see through.

His eyes hadn't lied to him earlier. There were only two men. In fact, they looked familiar. They were still a good distance away, but Gilbert could identify their green uniforms, and also noticed they were both young and blond. One was shorter with wispy, strawberry blond hair, while the taller of the two had neat, wheat-colored hair with even bangs lining his over his forehead. It wasn't until he noticed the pair of specs on the latter's face that he remembered who they were: Ivan's other two lackeys.

A confused frown caught hold of Gilbert's face. What were those two doing here? If he had understood Toris correctly, they had been waiting for Ivan to return when Gilbert had suddenly showed up. And now that he thought about it, he hadn't noticed those two with the Russian earlier either. So what were these dogs doing without their master? Or better yet, what were they doing in front of his house?!

The next sight tugged painfully on Gilbert's heart when he suddenly noticed them with torches. His body stiffened as he watched the men approach the building. He was too alarmed to see the hesitation in their step or the way they looked around cautiously as they approached, sharing a word with one another as if still deciding what they were really doing. No, all Gilbert could see was their arms suddenly rise as they tossed the flaming torches upward and landing along a ledge of the roof.

As soon as the fire left their hands, the two made a run for it, leaving the fire to do the rest of their dirty work. Gilbert would have chased after the offenders if his gaze wasn't stuck on the bright flames that illuminated the darkening sky. He hadn't even noticed that he was no longer hidden behind the fence, but standing to his full height with his head exposed.

The flames flickered, and for what seemed like an eternity, they didn't grow, planting the seed of hope within Gilbert that the flames wouldn't catch. But the seed was only crushed, when suddenly the flames grew beyond the bounds of the torch, spreading slowly across the old wood.

Gilbert didn't realize his limbs were shaking.

No. No! No no no no no! What was happening?! It's not supposed to be like this! The house-! _His _house-! It was burning!

His eyes remained on the growing flames, eating away the wood and working themselves into the building. Soon, Gilbert was walking forward; being pulled in by the glistening flames. And soon, that pull grew strong enough that he was running towards it. His voice cried out in horror, "Fire! FIRE! Someone! Anyone! Stop it! STOP IT!"

It wasn't until his legs were moving faster than his wounded body could handle that he lost balance, his wooden leg loosing balance and sending him skidding into the ground on his knees. His hands managed to catch himself but it resulted in ripping the skin off his palms and allowing dirt and sharp rocks to dig into the raw flesh. But the small amount of pain that brought was nothing to what Gilbert felt at the moment. Not the physical pain which he had become so used to, but the terror and uselessness he had wished to never feel again.

He couldn't save himself when the devil had found him at Kunersdorf. He couldn't do anything to save his leg. He couldn't do anything to escape the Austrians. And now, when home had been within his sights, just beyond his grasp, it was taken away from him. He could do nothing but watch the only home he ever knew be consumed by those roaring flames.

A pathetic moan (because that's what he truly was; pathetic) escaped his throat. His jaw clenched firmly and he dug his fingers into his palms, ignoring the stings of pain it caused.

The fire had finally drawn the attention of the neighbors, catching Gilbert's attention as alarmed cries echoed around him. Cries similar to the ones that escaped Gilbert's mouth earlier, yet none could dare compare to the misery that resonated from his. People called out for water, venturing nearer to the house to see if there was any hope in saving the old structure, but still keeping their distance. There was one call, however, that struck a chord within the Prussian.

"Is there anyone inside?!"

Head shot up to look back upon the burning building. For all Gilbert knew, it was empty. Ludwig would be safe in Austria, and his father away, like he always was. But…what if he were wrong? What if Ludwig had been brought back to Berlin? What if his father had returned to the house for the night?

No one had come out of the house. The fire started slowly. Surely if someone was inside, they would have come out by now. Right?

Gilbert carefully pushed himself up to his feet, making sure the peg was firmly set against the ground before he dared place his weight on it. Then slowly, he began to walk forward. He hadn't noticed the few people who had approached him, demanding to know if he was responsible for the fire. Nor did he notice the startled cries as he walked toward the flames with his blank expression.

_No one was inside. No one was home. It was empty. No one. Inside. Inside…_

Suddenly Gilbert was moving at a speed faster than he thought possible in his condition. People hollered and called out to him as he ran towards the house, nearly body- slamming the door open before running inside.

He wouldn't be able to forgive himself if someone was inside.

_You better not be in there._

"Ludwig! Vater!" Gilbert called out as he entered the building. The only answer he got was from the crackling flames coming from the floor above. The first floor was untouched for now, so there would be no use in him searching there. So naturally, his sights went immediately towards the long staircase before him.

With how quickly he tried scrambling up the stairs, it was only natural he would stumble more than once when the peg wouldn't catch on a step correctly, or when he failed to raise it high enough to match each step. The closer he got to the top, the warmer it got and the louder the crackling became, and the faster his heart became.

Upon reaching the top, he attempted to call out again, but was immediately attacked by a coughing fit as he inhaled the black smoke the filled the halls. Gilbert pressed his sleeve to his face, trying to be able to breathe properly while also trying to clear his eyes of the tears that sprouted in his eyes. The smoke was too thick to see through, and the flames roared in his ears. Soon he was forced to crawl on his hands and knees if he even hoped to see through the hallway, biting back the pain that his left knee spat at him from the awkward position of the severed limb and artificial one.

He crawled forward, soon removing his cap from his head and holding it over his mouth in attempt to filter the air he took in. He was frantic as he crawled; kicking doors open with his good leg and quickly peering inside before moving on.

_No one is here. No one is here. No one is here._

He continued telling himself that. Like a calming mantra to himself. But he needed to hurry. Hurry so he can prove to himself that no one was here so he could get the heck out!

Something popped in the distance, immediately followed by the creaking of timber and then a cacophony of noise so loud that it made Gilbert believe it was an explosion at first. But the crashing of timber told him otherwise, making him move faster.

He scurried forward, flinching as nearby flames licked his skin. Breathing became harsh as the room was filled with even more of the black smoke. Gilbert had just about had enough. He was just about to decide no one was here, and he needed to get out, when he neared something which caught his attention, preventing him from turning back.

The first thing he noticed was rubble, obviously a part of the roof which had collapsed earlier, with tiny flames eating away at the charred wood. However, what caught his eye was what lay at the base of the ruble, with a few pieces of severed wood covering its lower half. Gilbert's heart just about stopped when he saw the motionless blond figure.

"LUDWIG!"

Ignoring the flames around him, Gilbert shot forward, breath held. It didn't take him long to reach the still body, which Gilbert immediately wrapped his arms around, pulling him away from the rubble, flinching upon noticing the splotches of red that marred his baby brother's skin.

He hadn't the time to look over the younger or even check to see if he was still breathing. They needed to get out, and quick! The floor boards were beginning to groan underneath the stress, and would definitely give out at any moment. Gilbert had neither the strength nor ability to carry his brother. He had no time to situate him carefully along his back. All he could do was quickly remove his coat, covering the blond with it to protect him from the fiery tongues which lashed out at them, and drag the disturbingly rigid body with him.

It was when Gilbert had neared the stairs that he heard another pop, though this one just over his head. Without even thinking of the repercussions, he wrapped Ludwig in his arms and tossed himself down the stair case just as the ceiling collapsed. Gilbert grunted and groaned as his back hit the stairs and slid roughly toward the bottom, creating new bruises and reopening his arm wound from the day earlier.

Their bodies stopped moving part way down the stairs leaving Gilbert to drag his and his brother the rest of the way. Though thankfully, the down stairs was still untouched and clear of the choking smoke. However, Gilbert didn't stop crawling until he and Ludwig were out of the house.

As soon as he touched ground, he collapsed, coughing hysterically from the exertion and smoke. He was met by some startled and panic cries of the spectators, who pulled the brothers further away from the burning building until they were safe from the threat of collapsing debris. His vision spun as he gasped for air, the darkening images of the people huddled around him swirling together into a mass of flesh. Their words too were nothing but incoherent mumbles as his heart pounded rapidly in his ears.

His body hurt everywhere and one of the last things he wanted to do was move, but as soon as he could, he forced himself up, ignoring the people around him and scanning the area around him. As soon as his eyes spotted his brother, he lunged forward, pushing passed the people until he was resting at Ludwig's side. His stomach flipped and his fingers shook as he nervously placed his hand just centimeters above the teen's mouth.

It felt like an eternity as he waited for a simple breath; any sign that his brother was still alive. But thankfully, it was there. Gilbert nearly collapsed on top of the unconscious blond as relief flooded his senses, overrunning the adrenaline and causing any energy he had left to disappear.

A relieved but tired smile caressed his face, his eyes glistening with joyful tears which he just barely managed to hold back. Looking over his brother's body he noticed the glistening red blisters sprouting along his arms, with possibly more underneath his ripped clothing. His ankle was angled strangely, which Gilbert suspected was a broken. But no matter the injuries, it didn't matter. Ludwig was alive.

He reached a shaky hand out, running his fingers along the hair just above his ears. Finally having the chance to really take a look at his younger brother, he realized that so much had changed. He was much bigger than Gilbert imagined. His body was no longer as small and soft as he had once been, and was filling out rather nicely, even with his own growing sets of muscles. His face was longer and mature, but he could still recognize him through his still roundish cheeks. Along his ears he even noticed the healthy pair of blond sideburns that were growing in.

He released a quiet chuckle.

"You've been growing up without me, Luddy."

He had really changed a lot in Gilbert's four year absence, but despite the change, and even the black soot and grime that coated the youth's face, it was still Ludwig. It was still his baby brother.

From his knees, Gilbert rolled onto his backside, grabbing his brother and pulling him into his lap. For the moment, it was just those two. He could care less about the people around him, asking him questions. No, instead he grabbed the white coat that had been tossed at his feet and pulled it over Ludwig's body to keep him warm. He was home now. He finally had his brother again.

He attempted to rub some of the grime from Ludwig's face, but instead only smudged more onto his cheeks instead, causing Gilbert to snort.

"You need to wake up now, Luddy. I'm back now. Just like I promised."

Unfortunately, the blond didn't stir from his unconscious state. But it didn't matter; Gilbert would see those light blue eyes again. He would still be able to see that smile and was able to touch and wrap his arms around him. Suddenly the house didn't matter. He was still home.

But apparently fate still had other plans for the young Prussian when the echoing of multiple boots ripped Gilbert from his thoughts. The familiar shouts and clanking of rifles tore apart the bliss he felt. And when his eyes finally landed upon the approaching white coats, his heart was crushed.

"It's the Austrians! We need to get out of here!" someone shouted, creating a panic. Some of the Berliner's fled immediately from the site, while others ran to Gilbert's side, attempting to take Ludwig from his grasp. Gilbert, however, had given up. There was no way he could escape without being noticed, and any attempt could bring harm to the people or even Ludwig. They would hunt him down, and he had neither the physical or mental strength to deal with it anymore.

I stared down at his brother again, rubbing his hand through his ruffled, blond locks one last time before glancing at the man before him.

"You'll take him to safety?"

"Of course." He answered quickly. "And what about you? Who are you?"

"It doesn't matter. Just make sure you get him out of here."

He nodded again. Gilbert could hear the Austrians nearing.

He bent over slowly, brushing back Ludwig's bangs to lay a small kiss on his forehead, then whispering only loud enough for Ludwig's ears.

"I love you, bruder. And I'm sorry."

Ludwig's face contorted slightly, releasing a pained moan, but nothing more.

Gilbert sat up, watching as the man carefully lifted his brother in his arms and moved as quickly as he could away. The Austrians raised their voices, obviously displeased with the disappearing crowd, but shot their attention to Gilbert when he called out, "Hey! I'm over hear, _arschlochs_!" But even as he got their attention, his gaze was locked on his brother's until he disappeared into the falling darkness.

As soon as he disappeared, something broke within Gilbert. Tears began to run freely from his eyes and sobs filled his throat. He fell face first to the ground, curling in on himself in an attempt to hide the tears and wails from the men who sought to take him away again.

Suddenly he was glad that Ludwig hadn't awoken. Because there was no way he could look his brother in the eyes and promise that he'd be back. Ludwig would never know that he had fulfilled his first promise, but at least he wouldn't see his big brother in his time of weakness. At least he didn't have to lie to him. Because frankly, Gilbert didn't think he'd be able to get out of this one.

o00o00o00o

Ludwig awoken to warm tears covering his face. He stared at the ceiling above him, eyes dazed and mind spinning. The sun was shining brightly from a nearby window and warming his cheeks. After a few minutes, he realized he didn't know where he was and attempted to sit up. But with a wave of pain surging up his spine and arms, he didn't make it very far, and fell back onto the soft mattress that he occupied. He hissed in pain.

Just as soon as he made a sound, he heard the sudden clack of a chair being pulled back, with quick, heavy footsteps approaching him. He didn't even have to turn his head when suddenly a familiar face loomed over his bed. His face was as stern as ever but those equally blue eyes hid something deeper.

"Stay still, son."

"_V-Vater_?" Ludwig choked out, not quite believing he was thinking correctly.

When the older man nodded, Ludwig felt his shoulders relax, as if a huge burden had been lifted from his shoulders.

Alvar glanced down for a moment, swallowing before he opened his mouth.

"Ludwig, I…"

"What happened?" the youth interjected. He cocked his head to look at his arms positioned at his sides. They were covered with bandages and stung something awful. Alvar's gaze remained on the floor, as if he blamed himself for what happened.

"There was a fire."

Ludwig's eyes widened when realization hit him. Suddenly he remembered everything! The smoke. The flames. The pops and crackles. The terror. He remembered it all. And that of course included…

"My letters!" He suddenly burst out. "Where are my letters?!"

Alvar nodded to a table behind him. Ludwig followed his gaze, and sure enough, landed on a messy bundle of yellowed and bent pages, all held together with a red ribbon.

"They were hidden in your shirt when they found you." Alvar explained, his eyes grim with understanding.

Ludwig nodded, again relaxing underneath the bed covers.

"How did I…?"

"Get out?" Alvar finished.

Ludwig didn't even need to nod.

His father sighed, crossing his arms and brows.

"They said you were saved by a one-legged Austrian soldier, but it sounds too farfetched to be true. Especially since they were the ones who started the fire."

Ludwig frowned as well, not sure what to think about it. His thoughts passed back to Ivan, remembering him mentioning their house catching sight of the Austrians. But why would they simply burn down the house? They wouldn't do that, at least, not before raiding it.

"But you don't have to worry about them anymore, Ludwig. They're gone. They left the city this morning. The Russians will most likely be out by tomorrow."

Ludwig grunted a response, his mind still replaying the previous night's events. His eyes glanced back to the pile of letters, the very letters that drove a stake into his heart each time he set his sights on them, and yet he had nearly lost his life retrieving them.

Then another realization hit him. So hard in fact that he sat up again, wincing when the pain hit again. He also noticed he was shirtless but his back was covered in bandages.

"Ludwig! I said stay down!" His father snapped, trying to push his son back to the bed, but he only shrugged away from his hands.

"What about the house?"

When Alvar hesitated to answer, Ludwig felt his heart begin to race.

"_Vater_?"

Alvar closed his eyes, trying to control the anger on his face. The last thing Ludwig needed now was to worry his emotions.

" A section of the top floor collapsed, smothering the fire."

"The top floor? It's gone?" Ludwig's voice was a whisper.

"Most of it."

"And the furniture? Our rooms?"

Alvar looked away, only nodding this time.

Ludwig had to push down a knot in his throat as he continued. "And Gilbert's room?"

His father's brows narrowed further.

"All his stuff? The portraits? Everything? Just gone?"

Alvar didn't respond.

The knots increased until they turned into sobs. He shot his hands over his mouth to try to stifle them, but that didn't stop the tears from falling. He shook his head, not wanting his father to see him cry. He had enough of crying! He couldn't take it anymore! Men don't cry! His father doesn't cry! Gilbert didn't-!

Another sob and Ludwig pressed even harder over his mouth. Everything was gone! The house that his brother had grown up in, all of his things, everything that his brother had held dear to him, was simply gone. Vanishing as easily as the man had himself.

And the paintings! If they were gone…did that mean Gilbert was too? Would he eventually forget what his brother looked like? Would his face become as a blurred or a memory as his body's warmth or his contagious laughter? Within a single night, all those memories were gone.

But that's just it! Why was he crying about it? All this time, he had hated the house. He had hated looking at anything that reminded him of the man. There were times when he had wished the house was gone. And yet, now that it was forcibly taken from him, he realized he was wrong. He didn't want to forget. He didn't want to forget about his older brother!

Two giant hands grasped onto Ludwig's shaking shoulders, accompanied by that soothing baritone.

"Ludwig, calm down. It's alright. It's al-"

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry! I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry!" he sobbed, suddenly pressing his face against his father's chest. "It's all my fault. And now Gilbert's things- and even Mutter's- they're all gone!"

Suddenly Ludwig's body was enveloped by those giant arms, pulling him closer to his father's chest and cutting of his sobs.

"Stop Ludwig. Stop. It's not your fault. It's okay. You're okay. It's only a house. It can all be replaced." Ludwig thought he sensed the tightness of his father's voice, as if he too were holding back a knot of emotion.

"It can all be replaced." He repeated, his voice much quieter this time.

Ludwig clenched his eyes shut, wrapping his arms around his father despite the pain.

That's right. Because they both knew only too well losing something that couldn't be replaced.

o00o00o00o

Ivan fished a white handkerchief from his pocket and carefully ran it over his blade, careful not to cut his fingers along its sharpened edge. Within moments the white cloth was stained a dark red. Once the blade of cleaned of the red substance he stuck the soiled cloth back into his pocket. He'd have to wash it later.

"_Human Russian officers can enter here; Cossacks no, but shall kill us first. Not a Cossack till all of us are lying dead."_

A soft chuckle escaped his lips as he remembered the words of that poor man. It'd only been a day since they pulled out of Berlin. While the Austrians did a number on the city, they had been rather courteous to its citizens. They had, after all, desired to improve their international reputation among Europe. They had even been kind enough to leave the Cossacks outside of the city. But that of course, left the Cossacks eager for blood, and as their army advanced back towards Frankfurt, no one could stop the horsemen from pillaging any neighboring city that they could.

The man from earlier had been one of the lucky ones. He wouldn't have stood a chance after only barricading him and his family in his house. But thankfully for him, Ivan found him first, and he gracefully adhered to the man's wishes. Ivan had always thought of himself as a gracious person.

Sheathing his blade, he got back to his feet, ignoring the village burning behind him. The Cossacks were so crazed that not even Totleben could stop them at this point. Speaking of the General…

Ivan marched forward, his violet eyes searching carefully for the man. They however fell upon another familiar face instead.

"Toris." He greeted, placing a large hand on the Lithuanian's shoulder, not noticing how the man flinched on contact.

"Y-yes, Ivan?"

Ivan's childish smile grew. It'd taken a while for the brunet to grow accustomed to using his first name, rather than his title. After all, friends don't use titles.

"Do you know Totleben's current whereabouts?"

"The General?"

"Who else, Toris?"

Toris flinched again. A strange habit of his, Ivan had noted long ago.

"He should be in his tent."

Ivan nodded. "Good. Now stay here. I won't take long."

Ivan began to march away, before he suddenly faltered a step, looking over his shoulder.

"Oh, and Toris."

"Yes?"

"Remind me I have something interesting to tell you about our Kunersdorf toy later."

Toris' green eyes widened at the mere mention, and he seemed to hesitate a moment before nodding. Ivan's smile fell a tad, but remained firmly on his face. The sharpshooter was just too kind for his own good. He never seemed to approve of Ivan's toys. But Ivan quickly pushed the thought away. He had more important things to attend to.

Making his way through camp, he soon reached the General's tent, entering inside before even announcing his presence. In fact, he didn't say anything until the middle-aged General looked up from his maps and noticed the giant's presence, jumping slightly.

"Braginski! When did you get here?"  
"Just now."

"What do you need from me?"

"Nothing in particular." Ivan shrugged. Totleben raised a brow.

"But I am interested in you, General." Ivan added.

"Oh? And what would that be?"

Ivan took a few steps toward the seated man, his hands clasped firmly behind his back.

"I was just curious with this latest occupation. You ordered we retreat at first report of the Prussian king's advance to liberate their capitol."

Totleben frowned, not sure what the taller man was getting at.

"Yes. They have superior forces. We wouldn't have stood a chance. The Austrians did the same. They should be on their way to Saxony by now."

"The Austrians are understandable. Their forces were minimal, and they had no control over Berlin. But Frederick's army was still a good five marches away."

Totleben's confusion morphed into apprehension.

"What are you getting at, Grenadier?"

"I looked into you, General. You were born in Saxony and served as Electorate before you fled from your homeland on…accusation of corruption was it?"

"That has nothing to do with-"

"It's rude to interrupt." Ivan interjected before continuing. "And I believe you once were offered a position as a Colonel by none other than the Prussian King himself, correct? Oh, but that's right, the Dutch already offered you an even higher position. But you still kept correspondence of the king, correct?"

Totleben's face stiffened. "I-I have a deep respect for the man, but I'd never-"

"And something else that I don't seem to understand about all of this is how low of a ransom we received, when the asking price was 4 million thalers. How did we manage to easily accept a mere 1.5 million? Unless…"

The General stood from his chair so fast that it was knocked to the ground. His fists were clenched and eyes were staring murderously into Ivan's.

"Are you suggesting that I took a bribe?!"

Ivan shrugged. His smile was ever apparent on his face.

"I'm not suggesting anything, General. I just find it all rather fascinating. I wonder what the higher ups in St. Petersburg would think about it though. Maybe they'd find it just as interesting as I do?"

Totleben's gaze narrowed.

"What is it that you are asking of me?"

"I already told you, you have nothing I want."

And with those words, he turned his back on the man and started towards the tent's exit, saying one last thing before leaving.

"The only thing I'm after is entertainment."

* * *

**Author Notes: **

***This chapter has yet to go through my beta, so apologies if there are a lot of mistakes***

**Nearly double the size of a normal chapter, and one of the hardest ones I have written. Seriously, this chapter refused to be written on time and I was forced to rush a lot of parts, so they didn't come out quite how I wanted them to.**

**I also made Ivan a bit darker than intended…**

**History:**

*** A after these events, Totleben was arrested and sentenced to death on terms of treason. However, he was pardoned a few years later by Catherine the Great. Whether he was actually guilty or not is unknown.**

******* The "****Human Russian officers can enter here;-" quote, was an actual quote by a man involved with the Cossack's pillaging after the Berlin occupation. Whether or not he and his family were actually killed is also a mystery. I just wanted people to really know just how bad these Cossacks were.**

***The Russians really did treat the people of Berlin quite well, while the Austrians took their anger out on the city. But you also gotta keep in mind that the Prussians did a lot of damage on Austrian cities as well. I feel bad for portraying the Austrians in such bad light, but that's what happens when the main characters are Prussian.**

***The occupation in all lasted about 3 days. It wasn't that important to the war, but I felt I had to write it considering I placed Ludwig back in Berlin.**

**And now time for you all to hate me (if you don't already with what I do to these brothers). I'm going to Russia for a year and a half, during the time, I will be unable to do any more to this story. I seriously am sorry. I intended to finish this story before then, but of course I had too many ideas, and I refused to do a rushed ending. However, I do still have plenty of ideas for this story, and fully intend to finish when I get back. So whether you are an old reader, or a newer one, I hope you stick with me on this. I love you all so much for the favs, follows, and reviews. I never would have written so much without your support.**

** Please leave your reviews! I still am super eager to know what you think of this chapter. And nothing will encourage me to write more than your reviews! Please please please leave your thoughts!**

**I hope you liked this chapter, and I hope to see you again in the Fall of 2014.**

** Again, my deepest apologies.**


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